Adventures at Bobby's
by nightmares06
Summary: (Part 9 of Brothers Apart) Sam is healed and the sprites are stopped. But not everything is back to normal in the life of the Winchesters. They have things to figure out and an Impala to fix before they can get back to hunting.
1. Time it Right

**A/N:** This is the ninth part of the Brothers Apart series, if you want to read the first eight parts, they are found on my page.

 **Part 1: Brothers Apart  
** **Part 2: The Golden Touch  
Part 3: First Interlude  
Part 4: Home  
Part 5: Shadows and Reflections  
Part 6: Second Interlude  
Part 7: Taken  
Part 8: The Schism of Fire and Water**

* * *

Sam clutched tightly to his weapon, eyeing up the only safe exit in the room. It was all the way across the floor from him. The only way to get to it was straight through the middle of the room - the most dangerous part. He'd be out in the open, vulnerable and exposed. His pulse thudded in his ears, filling the silence with anticipation.

The human _knew_ he was in the room, but they didn't know _where_ he was. His only advantage. They'd find his hiding spot soon enough if he didn't get out of there fast.

It was all about the timing.

Sam shifted his position, trying to catch sight of the human without being spotted. A tall, dark shadow was all he could make out from his hiding spot - squirreled away behind a small stack of books piled on the floor. The only reason he hadn't been discovered already was the small overhang the top book formed. It was enough to conceal the small hunter from sight. At least from a human's point of view.

 _Thank god for small favors,_ Sam thought to himself wryly.

The thunder of a footstep shook Sam's hiding place beneath him. He flinched further back under the book, praying the human hadn't noticed his movement. Being hidden was the only thing he had going for him right now.

So far, the obvious hiding places had all been meticulously examined, one by one. The human was taking no chances. Behind the desk, under the bed. Even the discarded jacket on the floor had been lifted up and investigated. Sam shuddered at the thought of hiding in a place that could so easily end up crushed underfoot. He was desperate, not suicidal.

The gigantic boots stepped past the books, continuing on to the other side of the room. Sam tensed. This was it… his chance to escape.

He eyeballed the human's position one last time, confirming their back was turned. The second the human went to take another step, Sam darted out into the open. His legs burned at the effort. In all his life, he'd rarely run flat out.

The human reacted with unnatural speed. Within seconds of his desperate dash, Sam heard an angry yell echo overhead, followed by a string of curses. The floor quaked under his feet, almost knocking Sam down from the aftershock of a footstep.

Sight narrowed to tunnel-vision, Sam focused on the escape path in front of him. Nothing else mattered. _This_ time, he wouldn't be caught. Not happening.

Right after that thought crossed his mind, a tremendous boot hit the ground inches in front of Sam. He couldn't stop his forward motion in time, bouncing off the solid leather wall. He could almost feel the smug satisfaction from the human above, proud to have cut off his only escape.

 _Dammit! So close!_

Wasting no time, Sam dashed towards the heel of the boot. With any luck, the human would lose sight of Sam back there.

The moment he started on his new path, the human reacted immediately. The boot picked up off the ground and slammed down in front of him again with the shadow of a hand darkening the area around Sam. Cursing, Sam covered the last few inches with a daring roll, getting out of the way as fast as he could. His satchel slipped off his back the second he hit the ground, the small weapon clattering out of his hand.

But his desperate gamble worked. The fingers missed by less than an inch, grazing the ground behind him. Before the human could recover and snatch at him again, he was on his feet and running. His possessions lay abandoned behind him, no time to grab them.

No time to waste.

A scraping sound filled his ears as the human shifted position. The other boot landed alongside Sam, fencing him in on both sides and forcing him to run in the direction they pointed. Spurred on by his impending capture, he gasped in a breath, trying to force his legs to move faster.

It wasn't enough.

He was overshadowed by two massive hands as they swooped down on either side of him, closing him in darkness. Before he could even attempt to slip between the thick fingers, the hands slammed shut. Sam was cut off from the light as he tumbled in the enclosure. Vertigo hit as the hands lifted off the ground with Sam helplessly trapped inside. He scrambled against the fingers, searching for a weak point before he was too high off the ground to risk escape.

The hands tilted around him, sending Sam sprawling face first into the thick skin. Sam swore angrily as the human stood up, sending a sharp kick into the fingers walled against him. One of the huge palms was above him now, the other below. Trapped in a sandwich of flesh.

A loud voice cut through the dark after his kick. "Hey! Watch the goods in there, pint-size!"

The top hand lifted off the moment the hands stopped moving, letting in the light. Sam pulled himself to a wobbly stand, knees still shaking from his desperate dash. He steadied himself against an offered thumb.

Dean grinned down at the tiny hunter on his palm the moment Sam was free. "I'd say you're getting better! You _almost_ got away that time."

Sam brushed himself off, annoyed with the ending. He sighed. " 'Almost' won't do much good if anyone ever finds me and you know it."

"Hey, take it easy on yourself. Baby steps, remember? The odds are always stacked against you. We're just trying to even them out a little." Dean waggled his eyebrows. "Not to mention I'm a _little_ quicker on the uptake than your average human."

"I guess." Sam peered off the edge of Dean's hand, making sure his satchel was still in one piece. He spotted it on the ground, next to one of his brother's enormous boots. Dean was always very careful to avoid accidentally stepping on it during training, no matter how hot things got. He glanced up at Dean again. "You mind?"

Dean's mouth quirked up in a smile. " 'Course not."

Dean's fingers curled up around Sam to hold him steady as he knelt down on the floor. He gingerly picked up Sam's satchel and the small wooden training knife he'd whittled for Sam. It was blunt so he couldn't slice Dean's skin during their training, but had the same basic shape and balance as his silver knife so he'd be ready for a real fight. Sam accepted them from the extended fingers, slinging his bag around his shoulder and tucking the knife into his jacket by one of his new canteens from Walt. He was sure to keep one on him constantly, in case he wasn't around Bobby or Dean to ask for water. It made him feel more independent that way.

His silver knife was stashed away on the bottom shelf of the bookcase in Dean's room so he wouldn't risk losing it while they trained. There was no way he'd risk it during training.

It had been Dean's idea originally. Have Sam practice escaping/trying to fight Dean off to prepare him for any future times that humans would try to get their hands on the little Winchester. Considering his luck so far in life, neither of them doubted it would happen again, so it was time to actually prepare.

They'd arrived at Bobby's house two days ago after their last hunt. Ever since arriving, Dean had been working on repairing the Impala from Ilyana's attack that had roasted the passenger's side of the car. He'd estimated it to take a week or two before he'd be done, and Bobby had offered them a place to stay in the meantime.

For the first time since being cursed, Sam was in a place where he didn't have anything to fear. He could go anywhere in the house on his own, and no one would try to catch him when he did it. Bobby had said Sam was as welcome there as anyone ever was, didn't matter that he was a little smaller than the normal house guest. He'd even said Sam could keep anything he found around the house, the little scraps that humans either discarded or didn't even notice. 'You'll find a better use for that stuff than I ever will. Who'm I to tell you that you can't use it?' had been Bobby's rhetorical reasoning.

Sam was honestly fascinated. This was the first place he'd been (aside from the Impala) that he'd explored both when he was human-sized and after being downsized. He could remember racing through these immense, sweeping halls with Dean, laughing and teasing the older boy.

Now, he couldn't manage that anymore. If he was to walk down one of the hallways without Dean or Bobby, he'd have to hug the walls to stay out of the pathway. He might trust everyone here, but he wasn't about to risk his life on a stupid gamble and _hope_ they were paying attention to where they stepped. It was too dangerous to wander around with him small enough to step on. Those boots compared to Sam were bigger than the Impala would be to Dean.

Instead, he could discover what _else_ was in the house, out of reach from any human. Passageways behind the walls that lead _everywhere,_ ways into the vents so he could spy on any room in the house without being spotted. So far, the only humans around had been Dean and Bobby, but Sam aimed to be prepared. If anyone else ever showed up, he needed to know all possible escape paths, and he could find them by exploring.

What surprised him the most about these passageways behind the walls wasn't how many there were, but instead he was shocked by how much upkeep appeared to have gone into them. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought there were others living here.

But he'd seen no sign of anyone else during his forays into the walls, which lead him to wonder if they'd moved out. Bobby certainly wouldn't have hurt or caught them, being one of the few humans that Sam had ever seen that knew about people his size _before_ meeting Sam. From their point of view, however, he was a human and a hunter. Sam could understand exactly how frightening that could be when you were smaller than a hand. He'd felt the same when he was caught by Dean that first eventful meeting, and the same when Bobby had tracked him down effortlessly. If you didn't know a hunter, you stayed away from them. Period. If any people had lived in this house, they would have left the moment they found out he was a hunter. They wouldn't even consider staying.

Sam had to wonder if they'd lived here when he was a child. Back when _he'd_ have been someone to avoid. Children were more terrifying than adult humans in a way. Aside from the exception of hunters like Dean and Bobby, they were far more perceptive and unpredictable than a regular human. It didn't matter that they were smaller than adults when the person being grabbed is four inches tall. You were still outmatched, regardless. Even Sam had to admit he would have been fascinated by finding people so small.

He did wonder if the people that had once lived here were the ones that Bobby had seen in the fields. He might never know, since Dean and Bobby couldn't get close to them with Rumsfeld guarding, and Sam wasn't about to take a dangerous trek like that on his own. Animals were a huge danger, not to mention insects and spiders. He could get snatched up by a bird or stumble into another spiderweb.

For the moment, he let those questions slide from his mind. He settled down on Dean's steady hand while the hunter walked them both downstairs, leaning his head back against Dean's chest to the swaying, familiar walk. The adrenaline from their latest training session started to drain away as he let himself relax on his safe perch.

Ever since the hunt with Ilyana, Sam had thrown himself into being prepared for anything. He had Dean's full support for it, determined to find ways for Sam to face the world at any size. This curse wasn't being broken anytime soon, from what they'd managed to dig up on it (in other words: nothing, past the fact it was attached to his very soul), and they needed to focus on what they _could_ change, which was how Sam reacted to the world.

They had a new training regimen set up and planned out. Dean continued giving Sam lessons on how to use his knife to the best effect, but he'd also thrown in unarmed combat now, along with various methods of self-defense, both armed and unarmed. Sam was left wondering why he hadn't thought of this before. Dean was an untapped store of knowledge right at Sam's fingertips, and he'd never even thought of using it until his life was threatened.

Their session that morning was one of their more dangerous ideas. Dean had no idea whatsoever where Sam was in the room (otherwise, catching Sam would be far too easy, and pointless for the training). They had to recreate what it would really be like for Sam if a human picked up on his presence in the room. So, Sam had to try and escape the room with a human that knew he was in there, and the way he'd win would be by reaching one of his escape routes into the walls.

Of course, with his opponent being a hunter like Dean, it was nowhere _near_ as easy as it sounded. Not that it sounded easy in the first place. With any luck, practicing against someone with Dean's deadly fast reflexes would prepare Sam for the next time he was found by a human with malevolent intentions.

When they arrived in the kitchen, Bobby was already at the table, hunched over a bowl of cereal and a thick tome. He barely glanced up at the brothers as they came in. "Garth called," he said gruffly. "Needed some lore. He's out on a job out in Cali. Wanted me to check on some gods that might've been workin' some mischief, but it's startin' to sound like your run-of-the-mill witch."

Dean nodded distractedly as he lowered his hand down for Sam, not really paying attention. He was solely focused on food to the exclusion of the world around him. Sam, on the other hand, came over to the book Bobby had out, feeling his insatiable curiosity beckoning him.

The hunter didn't glance up at the four inch man, but he knew Sam was there, as always.

"What made him think it was a god?" Sam asked curiously. He didn't bother asking who Garth was. With the way things were for him, it wasn't likely he'd ever meet these other hunters Bobby mentioned. At most, he'd watch them through the vents, or maybe from a pocket if there wasn't time for him to get to safety.

Some days he thought about how odd that was. 'Take cover in a pocket,' when under a year ago he'd be running in the other direction. These days, it was reassuring to have the option if he needed it.

Bobby scowled down at the tome. "There's been disappearances in a certain part of the forest, near an old cabin, at the same point each year for over a decade. Problem is, there's nothin' connecting the victim's past the location. Different ages, genders, jobs, religions... not a single connection between them. Gods ain't against travelin' if they need to, so I'm thinkin' a coven's out there workin' some heavyweight black magic in the conveniently secluded area. The older covens are more likely to do that to work a ritual than these new agey witches." He shrugged. "Or some nutball with a chainsaw is hidin' out there takin' his yearly vacation to go off and murder some innocents. Either way, Garth's on it."

Sam was drawn away from Bobby and the book by Dean's plate clattering to the table with a bang, followed by a cup of coffee Dean was staring into like it was the nectar of the gods. He practically shook himself awake when he saw Sam wander over. "Here, sorry," Dean muttered, filling up the bottlecap they kept to the side for the smaller hunter. "Help yourself," he managed with a wave at his full plate. Dean wasted no time drinking down his own cup of coffee.

Sam inched his way cautiously over to the plate. Even after almost a year with Dean, the sight of _so much_ food made his eyes widen. Humans were so casual about it. They had no idea what it was like to scrimp for enough to feed everyone in the family. And then, of course, the realization that his own _brother_ was going to eat that mountain of food in one sitting would hit - hell, he'd eat it in five minutes if he could manage it. It underscored their differences better than anything else.

Sam picked at the eggs on the plate before hesitantly ripping off a piece of toast. He sent a questioning glance up at Dean before touching the bacon or sausage on the plate (Bobby had stocked up on everything once he knew they were staying), knowing those were Dean's favorite parts of the meal. He didn't want to push his luck.

All he got was a reassuring grin in return between gulps of coffee, so Sam dug in. Once he had everything stacked in his arms, he settled down next to his own coffee, using the napkin like a picnic blanket. He put cream and sugar (left to the side by Dean while he was getting food) in the coffee, just the way he liked it, and left the sugar to dissolve while he started on his food.

If there was one reason he wished Walt and Bree could have come with them, it was the food. The scraps Sam had grown up on had been replaced by full, (mostly) well-balanced meals. He'd been scrawny when Dean had first found him, but he was filling out, his muscles growing more defined as time went on. He'd never been weak, by any means, but he was definitely getting stronger. The regular climbing helped, and now added on with that was his and Dean's daily training sessions, along with an early-morning run around the bedroom. Dean wasn't even awake at that point, sleeping obliviously on while Sam did laps around his bed.

At the very least, Sam figured if he was ever on the same scale as Dean, he'd give the hunter a run for his money. Dean was trained in fighting, but Sam had to work out just to get around, giving him a leg up in the physical fitness department.

True to form, Dean ate through his breakfast ravenously before going back for seconds. Sam took his time, making sure to enjoy the chance for a real meal. Bobby didn't glance up from his book, muttering to himself about rituals and sacrifices and 'dammit Garth, you're going to get yourself _killed_ ' the entire time.

Dean sat back when he was finished, waiting patiently for Sam since neither of them had anywhere to be. Bobby glanced up at last at the movement, squinting at Dean. "Any plans for the day?" he asked with a fair bit of curiosity in his voice as he pushed away the book, rubbing his forehead.

Dean shook his head even as he answered. "Just working on the repairs. Those sprites did a number on the undercarriage. I'm actually surprised she made it all the way here after the attack."

Bobby shifted his gaze to Sam. "And you?" He knew as well as anyone that the brothers didn't necessarily spend all their time together, just a large chunk of it.

The moment the eyes were on him, the tingle of _danger_ crept up Sam's back. He was honestly starting to think there was more to it than simply a reaction to a human's gaze - he even got it when he couldn't _see_ the human looking at him. With Bobby, at least, he ignored it with the understanding he was safe.

Forcing his mind off that, Sam shrugged. "Just exploring, I guess." He wouldn't be much help with the Impala, so he wanted to try and stay out of Dean's way as much as he could. He could feel curiosity budding in him to check out the Impala's insides, and he _wanted_ to watch Dean work, but it seemed like Dean already had his hands full. He didn't need to worry about keeping an eye out for his four-inch-tall brother at the same time.

Bobby nodded at that. He didn't ask Sam where he'd explore. He always avoided subjects like that, thankfully. Despite adjusting to having humans in his life constantly, Sam found it hard to drop his guard far enough to tell someone that wasn't Dean _where_ he'd be. Knowledge like that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, and Sam instinctively kept it hidden. He got the feeling that Bobby understood the aversion without him having to say a word.

Once breakfast was over, Dean headed back upstairs with Sam perched on his shoulder to get ready for the day.

Sam found himself flexing his arm as they went out of habit, finding it hard to accept the lack of any pain whatsoever. From what they could tell, when Nixie had healed him, she'd healed _everything._

There was no sign of burns on him, the ache where his broken arm had been was gone, even the nicks from shaving with his knife had vanished without a trace. Sam was surprised to find that even the scars on his palm from his frantic escape attempt months ago had vanished.

With her healing only two days past, he was still adjusting to a body that didn't hurt at all. It was nice. He could focus on other things.

Like exploring.

Once they were back in the room, Dean paused after dropping Sam off by the bookshelf. "You sure you don't want to hang out with me for a bit?" he offered, brushing a hesitant finger through Sam's hair. He still acted like he thought he'd injure Sam if he moved too quick most times, but he was getting better. At least he didn't hold back during training. Sam had managed to drag _that_ much out of him.

Sam shook his head in response to the offer. "I'll just stick around in here. There's a few places I wanted to check out." He avoided mentioning how he was planning on staying out of Dean's way, plus the _other_ reason he wanted to explore.

Sam mulled it over as Dean left to get a shower. Ever since Dean had given him the desk, Sam had wanted to find a way to reciprocate. He'd already missed Dean's birthday and Christmas, but he figured Dean wouldn't mind a late present.

To that end, while he was out exploring Sam had started to gather loose threads and scraps of cloth from around Bobby's house. Nothing that would be missed, but enough that at night, while the overhead light in the room was on, Sam would sit there and start to twine it all together the way his adopted mother had shown him once. He made certain to carefully wash out each and every thread, making sure they were clean before incorporating them into his project. With any luck, by the time they left, Sam would have a finished bracelet large enough to fit Dean's wrist, replacing the one that Ilyana had seared off with a careless fireball.

So far, Dean hadn't mentioned anything about the cup of water he left Sam every night growing extra dirty. Hopefully he didn't suspect what Sam was up to.

Sam had taken to using the sink in the bathroom to get baths now instead of using his cup of water. He was growing more confident using human appliances and items, and the one in the adjacent bathroom to where they stayed had a plug that covered the drain, that way he couldn't accidentally slip in if it came out, and was controlled by a metal lever behind the faucet. Both the handles for the 'hot' and 'cold' water were in easy reach, and Dean didn't mind either way. He'd accidentally walked in on Sam by accident once so far, resulting in a new knock to make sure he wasn't going to interrupt again. Both had been eternally embarrassed by the oversight.

For the moment, Sam made sure he'd emptied his satchel of his previous days findings. It was all carefully piled in the corner of his 'room' under the bookshelf, waiting for him to sort through it. He also took care to switch out his wooden practice knife for the solid handle and smooth silver blade of his real knife, and grabbed a leather canteen that had been filled with water the night before. He rubbed the soft leather, thinking of when he'd received it only a few days ago from Walt.

That done, Sam was ready for another day of exploration.

* * *

 **A/N:**

So, who had a heart attack right there in the beginning?'

Check out the tumblr! (Link on my profile XD)

PL1 has deigned to be my beta reader for the fic 3

And Galaxywitch continues to keep my grammar straight.


	2. Rumsfeld

An hour later, Sam could be found picking his way through the dusty interior of one of the walls lining the upstairs hallway between bedrooms.

He could see his own bootprints outlined in the dust, lit by the scattered shards of hazy light that managed to worm their way through the cracks in the wood paneling. When he made it to a crossroads in the wall, he made sure to choose a different path than what he'd taken the day before, separating from his tread marks.

After around ten minutes moving at a steady pace, Sam heard a strange snuffling coming from outside the wall. A dark shadow briefly blotted out the sun, passing over the cracks in the wood like a dark cloud. Sam froze up, his mind immediately going to rats or other dangers he knew lurked within human homes.

Currently, he was the only person upstairs. Bobby hadn't budged from his books thus far that day, and Dean's thudding footsteps had stalked right by Sam, on his way to where the Impala was being kept in the yard. He hadn't noticed Sam's presence, obscured as it was by the thick walls.

Sam was on his own.

Putting a hand in his jacket, he slowly curled his fingers around the handle of his knife, falling naturally into the steady grip Dean had taught him. Sam crept forward, careful to keep his steps even and his breathing steady. He could've sworn his pulse was louder than anything else from the way it thudded in his ears.

Growing up, he'd helped Walt fight off rats multiple times. They were dangerous in more ways than one, able to easily overpower someone Sam's size if they caught them off guard, not to mention attracting pest control like a magnet. The methods used to rid motels and homes of rats and vermin didn't discriminate between the rats and the small people, so Walt had taken it upon himself, with Sam's help, to kill any that wandered in.

He had put the carcasses to good use once the deed was over and done with. Rats made good eating, the meat carefully cooked and often dried, deep in the bowels of the motel using the hot water heater. Sam's knife and a spare razor they'd found in an abandoned room had been put to use skinning the animals, giving Walt pelts for his leather work.

The snuffling came again, this time closer to where Sam was standing. He tensed, knife out, the feeling of being hunted washing over him. A shadow fell over a loose wall panel nearby, something large nudging it from outside.

Sam hesitated. _That's a little big for a rat_ , he thought to himself.

Sam straightened from the hunter's stalk he'd fallen into. "Rumsfeld? Is that you?" he called out.

Sam sighed at the familiar whine that came from outside the wall, followed by a steady scratching as Rumsfeld tried to reach his small friend. Sam slipped past the loose panel, briefly glancing at each end of the hall for humans purely out of habit.

Rumsfeld flattened himself against the ground at the sight of Sam, happily nudging his stomach with a cold, wet nose. Sam smiled, brushing his small hands over the huge muzzle. He didn't even mind the wet spot it left on his jacket, smudging against the dustbunnies he'd picked up inside the wall.

"Y'know," he said to the dog, "you make it very hard to sneak around up here." His voice was full of dry humor. He already knew he had no reason to hide, but most of it was instinctive after so long spent this size.

Sam leaned against Rumsfeld, giving the snout a quick hug. "You're gonna make me look bad," the small hunter pointed out. "All this work to be silent and you find me in no time flat. I'll have to work on that."

After a few moments spent petting the dog, Rumsfeld pulled away. If Sam hadn't let go at the last second, he would have been pulled right off his feet as the huge Rottweiler stood all the way up. He glanced down at Sam, then towards the stairs, almost prancing in place. His claws clicked against the hardwood floor, tapping out his own beat.

Unconsciously, Sam took a few steps back, giving the huge dog some space. He hadn't spent much time around Rumsfeld without Dean at least standing in the background, so being alone on the floor like this felt odd. He was getting adjusted to having the hunter around all the time. Having him close by afforded Sam an iota of control he didn't otherwise have.

Dropping his hands to his side, Sam called up to the dog, "What's up, boy? Did you want me to come with you?"

After a yelping bark was given in return, Sam decided that must be it. Hitching his bag up, Sam grinned. "Okay, but just this once." He kept a steady tone as he walked. "I'm really not built for these halls the way you are, y'know?"

For the first few steps, Rumsfeld watched. Then he ran ahead, barked excitedly, and ran back to Sam. Sam found himself being nosed from behind, almost swept off his feet by the eager dog.

"Whoa! Calm down!" Sam was barely able to catch his feet. He crossed his arms, staring up at Rumsfeld. "I'm not as fast as you are," he pointed out patiently. "I just need a little more time to get there, that's all."

Rumsfeld's answer came in the form of another nuzzle that quickly turned Sam's calm to shock. The dog managed to sweep Sam off the ground as he desperately clutched the top of the furry snout. He found himself staring into Rumsfeld's warm, chocolate eyes, giving him the 'this is what you meant, right?' look.

Sam tried to pry his fingers from the fur he was clutching and was partially successful. "O-okay. So. I guess this means you want me to _ride_ with you, doesn't it." He crawled to the top of Rumsfeld's head where he'd have a more stable spot to sit. He gave the broad head a pat once he was situated. "Just don't go too fast, alright?"

With an agreeable yelp, Rumsfeld trotted forward. Sam tucked his satchel right next to his body and marveled at how smooth the strides were. Even Dean's ambling gait came closer to tossing Sam off his perch than this did, and Sam was _used_ to that!

The only time he was actually worried about falling was when they reached the stairs. Sam held tight with both hands as the surface he was on bounced up and down in time with the steps. One definite downfall about a ride on Rumsfeld versus sitting with Dean was at least his brother had a chance at catching him if he slipped or was jarred off. So far, it hadn't happened, but Sam knew anything was possible and was always thankful for Dean's deadly-fast reflexes.

Once downstairs, Rumsfeld trotted past the library. Bobby could be heard arguing on his cell phone while leaning over a different book now, "No, Garth! This ain't no tooth fairy you're dealing with. You say that spell, light it up and molotov their asses, you got me? And make sure the chicken feet are _fresh_ this time."

Sam couldn't hide a smile at that. Apparently Dean wasn't the only hunter to vex Bobby from day to day. From the sound of his voice, this wasn't the first argument he'd had with this 'Garth.'

Sam indulged himself for a moment, wondering what kind of person Garth was. Was he like Dean and Bobby, a person who wouldn't jump to conclusions about Sam and the others like him? Or was he one of the hunters Walt had warned against (and Sam knew existed, from what Bobby had told him), one that would kill off the smaller people, just because they were 'different?'

He might never know.

As Rumsfeld finally trotted into the kitchen, Sam caught sight of their goal at last. A small bag of treats was sitting up on the counter, left lying in sight of the dog, but out of reach. At least for the dog. He had a certain small friend that could easily get him a snack from the coveted bag. Sam couldn't quite hold in a smirk as Rumsfeld bounded up next to the sink, holding his head eagerly up for Sam to dismount.

Shaking his head, Sam twisted his satchel around before hauling himself up onto the counter. "Is this all I am to you?" he asked with faked regret. "Just someone that's easy to get treats out of?"

The bag of treats was tipped on its side when he came up to it. Sam was easily able to pry it open, releasing a cloud of bacon-smelling air. He coughed, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the pungent aroma. It smelled worse than some of the food Dean ate. Sam hadn't thought that possible.

"You actually _like_ this stuff?" Sam joked, pulling out a Beggin strip that was longer than he was tall. "No wonder you and Dean get along these days." He'd definitely have to wash up after this. He'd smell like a dog treat!

For answer, Rumsfeld yelped, prancing in place a little. Out of sight from Sam, Bobby sat up in the library, glancing towards the kitchen. Even though Sam couldn't see the hunter, he felt a tiny warning tingle go up his neck, letting him know someone was watching.

Sam stood at the edge of the counter, dog treat in hand. "Sit!" he commanded the massive dog, unwavering as he stared Rumsfeld down.

Rumsfeld, just like Dean and Bobby, didn't give a damn about Sam's size. He sat right down, staring loyally up at his small friend.

Sam gave him a smile. "Good boy." With a heave, he tossed the dog treat off the counter.

Rumsfeld snapped it up in seconds, licking his chops and eagerly staring around for more.

Sam brushed off his hands. "That's it for now! You can have more later!"

Rumsfeld didn't argue, coming up to the counter to offer a ride again. Sam reached off the edge to pet the soft, black fur, but he had no plans to leave just yet. The window behind the sink had caught his eye.

If he was right about the layout of the house, that window looked out over the junkyard. He'd be able to see where Dean was as he worked on the Impala.

With that in mind, Sam pushed himself to a stand. Rumsfeld grumbled, but settled down next to the counter. He almost reminded Sam of Dean, the way he hated letting the little hunter out of sight. It was like having two full-time nannies some days.

Ignoring Rumsfeld for the moment, Sam picked his way past some of the dirty dishes left lying around on the countertop and a semi-wet sponge. He only paused to quickly wipe his hands off on the wet surface, getting rid of most of his 'dog-treat' smell. He didn't want to get mistaken for a treat or a snack by any other animals he might encounter at his size.

Once he reached the windowsill, Sam had to jump up to catch the edge so he could climb up. As soon as he managed to scramble up, he gave his arms a small stretch, walking up to the window pane. The window shutters were left open, giving the house a dose of warming light in the cool morning air. Full summer would be upon them soon, bringing the sweltering heat, but for now a cool touch remained on the breeze.

The sight of the junkyard almost took Sam's breath away. The entirety of the yard stretched out from the window, displaying a countless number of junked-up cars that Bobby could pick apart for parts when he was out working instead of on calls with hunters.

Dean could be seen, barely twelve feet away from the house. His jean-clad legs were currently sticking out from under the Impala as he focused his efforts on where the worst of Ilyana's fireball had struck. His boots twitched as he worked, shifting slightly so he could get a better reach while he went.

Sam settled down among the dust bunnies, paying no heed to the slight discomfort from the dust. He watched Dean work with fascination on his face.

* * *

That's where Bobby found Sam over an hour later. He'd long ago given up on Garth at that point and only said a quick prayer that the hunter wouldn't get himself killed on his witch hunt.

Sam's eyes were just as wide while he watched Dean work as they'd been when he'd first sat there, his attention unwavering. Bobby had to smile at the sight of the kid sitting there watching his older brother.

"Sam," Bobby greeted as he turned on the sink to wash up.

Sam twisted around as the water roared out of the faucet, barely flinching at all. "Oh. Hey Bobby."

Bobby was proud to see Sam wasn't as nervous anymore without Dean backing him up. After what the kid had gone through a few short months ago, no one could blame him when he got skittish around full sized humans.

What those people had done... littles like Sam and his family were _harmless_. All they ever did was try to get by in a world not made for them. There were very few places they could be truly safe outside of human habitation. If they lived out in the wilderness (as some did), all it would take would be one determined wolf finding them unprepared to decimate an entire community.

If only humans would treat them better... they might be able to risk trusting their larger brethren. But it was far more common to hear about them getting caught, sold off as pets, used as test subjects... even hunted by a few presumptuous jackasses Bobby had the displeasure to have run into over the years. It was very rare to hear of a human treating them as equals, the way Bobby did with Sam or the way Dean had done with all of the littles he'd found.

Bobby leaned against the sink, crossing his arms once his hands were dry. "Your brother keepin' out of trouble today?" he asked, knowing exactly why Sam was sitting up there.

Sam smiled up at him. "He hasn't left the Impala yet," he informed Bobby brightly. "He's been working underneath the car and on the engine all morning."

Bobby peered out the window. Sure enough, Dean was leaning over the engine that very moment. Assorted tools and parts were scattered around on the ground, with a few that had nothing to do with the current repairs mixed in. Bobby worked at hiding a smile of his own. He remembered Dean's plan for the Impala once he'd fixed her up. It was a good thing Sam didn't know much about cars or he might start to figure out Dean's master plan, which was supposed to be a surprise.

Bobby would keep Dean's secret. It was a worthy endeavour.

Sam wasn't getting any bigger, after all. The boys needed to prepare for the long haul like this. Anything less would be negligent at this point, and Dean was anything but.

They remained like that, Sam sitting on the windowsill and Bobby leaning against the sink for a few companionable minutes, watching the young hunter as he worked outside. Bobby mused that if hunting hadn't been the life he'd chosen (or had chosen for him), Dean would have made a great mechanic.

Like John used to be, before the demon that had stole away with Mary's life and their chances at a normal life.

But here Dean was, a hunter like his father. And his brother. All of them were fully invested in 'the family business,' to the exclusion of any chance at a 'normal' life, whatever normal might be for Sam or Dean at this point.

Bobby was actually surprised that Dean hadn't noticed them watching. The window wasn't far from him, after all, and Bobby was certainly noticeable if Sam wasn't. A person staring out the window like that should set Dean's hunter instinct off in an instant. Yet he continued on, gamely working on the Impala and ignoring the rest of the world. He was clearly enamored with the car in his careful motions.

After a bit of time spent like that, Bobby felt his own curiosity begin to overwhelm him. He knew better than anyone that Sam and Dean rarely spent this much time apart, and judging from the expression on Sam's face as he stared out at the car, he was regretting not being out there with his brother.

"So, uh. Sam. What's keepin' you inside?" Bobby started. "I would have thought you'd be out there with Dean, checkin' out the Impala's repairs." Bobby knew perfectly well how eager to learn the kid was, and this was a golden opportunity to see Dean in action fixing up the car. He could barely imagine how excited Dean would be if given the chance to show Sam how it all worked.

Sam shifted so he could see Bobby out of the corner of his eye while they talked, small dust bunnies drifting in the air at his movement. Bobby frowned briefly at that. He should have thought about dusting with Sam around. Clearly the dust was a bigger deal to him than it was for everyone else.

Sam considered his question for a moment. "I don't want to get in his way," Sam admitted, a light blush coloring his face. His shoulders shrugged helplessly. "I can't really help him out there, after all."

Understanding dawned in Bobby as Sam continued on. " 'Sides, this is the happiest I've seen Dean in a long time. I don't want to take that away from him and have him worrying about me, instead."

Bobby thought over his reply for a long time before answering. "You're right. He _is_ happier when he's out there workin' on the Impala. Sam, durin' all those years growin' up... all those years _you_ were missin,' that was the only time I'd ever see him smile. Some days it didn't even matter if it was the Impala he was workin' on or some piece'a scrap metal, he'd be out there smilin.' "

He saw guilt pass over Sam's face at this and leaned down, dropping the volume of his voice with their proximity. "Sam, none of that's your fault, or Dean's. So put that guilt outta your mind this instant. I watched Dean carry the burden of your death for years. But now, ever since findin' _you_ again, that weight's gone. He has _hope_ again, Sam. That's _your_ doing. It's like he found a piece of him that went missin.' " Bobby straightened, giving Sam space again. "Don't underestimate yourself. You've done more for Dean than I ever thought possible. There were days I thought we'd lose him for sure because of his reckless disregard for his own life, like he didn't have a reason to keep on truckin' like the rest of us. Now, that's not a worry."

The guilt on Sam's face slowly faded away, replaced by quiet contemplation. Bobby reached a hand forward, lightly touching one of the small, brooding shoulders, which stiffened slightly under the sudden contact. His heart jumped in his throat at the feeling of Sam shifting under his finger. How was Dean so used to this? He'd seen him actually _nudge_ Sam with a knuckle one time when they were joking around. He'd be afraid to hurt Sam with that kind of motion, but Dean was able to make it feel as commonplace as clapping a friend on the back.

Sam thought over it. The silence stretched out between them, long enough that Bobby wondered if he should move his hand away.

"You really think he wouldn't mind me being in the way?" Sam's answer came in a softer tone, big hazel eyes almost begging Bobby to say Dean wouldn't mind.

Bobby smiled, happy to assuage Sam's fears. "Sam, I don't think Dean'll ever think you're _in the way._ "

"If you say so..." Sam said, still a little doubtful. He put a hand on Bobby's finger, using it to pull himself to a stand. "I guess I can go out there and check it out for a few minutes." He slung his bag over his shoulder, brushing off the dust like it was normal to have his stuff caked in it.

Of course, the way Sam had lived before reuniting with Dean, it _was_ normal. Bobby and Dean would never _really_ understand what it was like for him living that small. They couldn't. Sam had to trudge through carpet threads that reached over his ankles, while Dean and Bobby wouldn't even notice the difference between that same carpet and a flat surface. Sam could slip into the walls unnoticed and make his way through a maze of tunnels that the others couldn't fit their hands into. His world was almost the opposite of theirs, yet he trusted them enough to spend almost all his time with them.

To Bobby's surprise, Sam didn't ask for a hand getting down or getting to the car. Instead, he climbed down the windowsill, dropping down to the countertop. Once he made it to the edge of the counter, he took a moment to find a solid place to brace his fishhook before swinging off the countertop. Bobby stepped back, amazed at how easy Sam made it all look. He couldn't even begin to imagine Dean doing the same thing. Or himself, for that matter.

Over the course of the next minute, Sam scaled down the counter like it was the sheer face of a cliff, bracing his own boots against the edge as he walked down. Extreme sports were his everyday life. At the bottom, he landed nimbly on Rumsfeld's head, making Bobby's eyebrows climb all the way up into his trucker cap.

The moment Sam was on Rumsfeld, the dog scrambled to his feet. "Wait, hold on!" Sam barked quickly, making him freeze in place. Hurriedly, Sam twined his rope around his arm and with a flick of his wrist, caught the hook to tuck it away.

Sam gave the stunned Bobby a wave before giving Rumsfeld's broad head a pat. "You know where Dean is, boy, dontcha?" Sam asked the dog. "Let's go find Dean!"

Bobby was left shaking his head in bemusement as the dog bounded away with his small passenger. The Rottweiler nosed open the old screen door to get himself (and Sam) outside. He knew his way around the property well enough to get Sam pretty much anywhere without a problem, if Sam could figure out how to tell him where to go.

Bobby watched from the window for a few minutes to make sure Sam wasn't getting himself into trouble before he remembered himself, and went to dust the windowsill.

* * *

 **A/N**

Next chapter arriving Nov 13th - Friday the thirteenth!


	3. Hard Truths

The moment the door was open, Rumsfeld was bounding down the small flight of stairs. He was intent on the destination Sam had managed to convey to him.

The cool morning air rustled through Sam's hair as he held tight to the fur. Birdsong echoed through the morning breeze, reminding Sam that even in this peaceful place, there was danger everywhere around for him, and Dean had no idea he was even outside. He would have to be wary.

Dean was hunched over the Impala, up to his elbows in the engine. Dark oily streaks covered his arms, and the short sleeved shirt he was wearing did nothing to protect his forearms from the grime. He didn't even glance up at Rumsfeld when the dog trotted up, just barely managing to mumble a reply that was sort of directed towards the dog.

Rumsfeld settled down between the passenger's side tire and Dean's cooler, content to relax in the sun with the pair, even if one brother didn't know the other was there.

Yet.

Sam considered his options. He'd have to be careful, since Dean didn't know he was around, and he was easily big enough to be an accidental danger. But this was a rare chance to see him in action. Sam couldn't pass it up.

With an easy toss, his hook caught on the edge of the car far above. Sam tested the tautness of the cord with a proud smile, making sure it wouldn't wiggle free while he was climbing. He was getting better at hitting the mark on his first try.

Once the cord was taut, Sam pulled himself off of Rumsfeld, scaling up the side of the Impala like it was a sheer black cliff, the metal warm under his touch. Rumsfeld let out a whining moan as his friend left him, shifting in place so he could watch Sam's slow progress up the shining black metal.

There was no sign Dean had noticed him, but it would be hard to imagine the hunter not spotting a small hook catching on the side of the car. An occasional tremor rattled through the metal as Sam climbed, marking Dean's work on his beloved car.

When he finally reached his goal, a strange, metallic landscape greeted him.

Black metal tubes spread out in all directions in an almost dizzying array. Thick red and black wires rose from what Sam recognized vaguely as a car battery and went plunging down into the depths. Dean's body was arched over this landscape, somehow understanding how it all went together far better than Sam ever would, even though Sam was small enough to go spelunking in it. A ratchet longer than twice Sam's length was gripped in one hand, making a loud clicking noise as Dean worked.

Once done, Dean pulled away, straightening the moment he saw Sam standing along the edge of the car. He smiled, wiping the sweat from his eyes. "Hey, Sammy. I shoulda known you wouldn't be far off if Rumsfeld actually came to pay me a visit."

Sam had to smile in turn. It was true. Ever since they'd arrived at the house the dog had shown no interest in Dean, instead following Sam around obsessively, acting like a lost puppy when the small hunter was out of sight. He even fretted if Sam was around Dean or Bobby, or if Sam was standing on the ground. The dog did more mother henning than Dean ever had (though that was mostly because Sam didn't _let_ Dean mother hen constantly).

"Maybe," Sam said, glancing over the edge at the dog below.

Without warning, a hand appeared in the way. Sam almost jumped back in surprise (which would have landed him right in the chassis of the car), but a light touch on his back from the hand still gripped around the ratchet stopped him.

Sam steadied himself in annoyance, pushing the hand away. "Dean..." he said warningly. He knew how to handle himself enough not to fall off a high surface. What did Dean take him for?

Taking his hands back, Dean held them out placatingly. "Relax. I just didn't want to chance you slipping, that's all." He gestured at the sharp drop off the edge of Sam's perch before turning back to the engine to get back to work and changing the subject. "So, what brings you out to visit? I figured we wouldn't see you all day." He tempered the last part with a grin. Sam had been spending a lot of time on his own ever since the sprite case, taking full advantage of the first house he could safely explore on his own.

Sam pursed his lips. "I wasn't planning on coming out, honestly," he admitted, taking a seat on the edge with his legs dangling over the engine. "I didn't want to get in the way," he explained, "you've got your hands full out here, and I... can't exactly help out."

Silence stretched out between them as Dean finished up what he was working on. He frowned, straightening. "Sam... you're not 'in the way,' ever. If you ever want to come check things out, don't let that hold you back. It's a free country." He dropped the ratchet in the toolbox, kicking it closed.

Sam shifted so he could see the parts lying scattered around the car. A new tire to replace the one Ilyana had scorched, some metal tubing, metal sheets...

Dean saw him looking and grinned. He knew all too well how curious Sam could be about everything.

"So, want to learn a few things about cars?"

The rest of the morning, Dean didn't touch the repairs. Sam figured out about halfway through a dissertation on the Impala that he'd pretty much been _waiting_ for Sam to ask about cars. Dean hadn't been this excited since the tiny birthday party he threw Sam.

They started simple and moved on to the more complex. Sam soaked up every drop of information Dean gave him like a sponge. Even though he might never be able to do the repairs himself, he was fascinated. He got to stand on the ground, watching Dean check the air pressure of the back tires with a strange instrument. Sam even got to hold it, examining the air pressure units that stretched under his fingers and down the side.

Oil changes were easy enough to cover. This time, Sam was balanced in the crook of Dean's neck while the hunter worked, watching Dean take out the dipstick to check the levels in the car. His explanation was long winded, about filters and levels and engine sludge and how to do it the _right_ way. Eventually the explanation tapered off and Dean put the pieces back in, never even realizing how much time he'd spent talking about _one_ thing.

While Dean was talking, Sam scribbled down what he could in his new journal. He covered a few pages with what he'd learned about the car that day. His favorite part, by far, was when he sat on Dean's chest, and they went under the jacked-up Impala on a creeper. Even Sam could spot the damage that the sprites had wrought. Dean would have to replace most of the undercarriage on the passenger's side. It was damn lucky the car had made it all the way to Bobby's in this condition.

Before finishing for the morning, Dean sent a few surrepticious glances around the junkyard, then ducked into one of the car wrecks that was sitting nearby. Sam found himself placed on a cracked leather seat.

"Now, this is something anyone in our... line of work should know," Dean informed Sam with a wink.

He slipped under the dash on the driver's side, somehow contorting his broad shoulders until he managed to _fit_ in that small area. Once Dean had managed to squish himself in, and had stopped moving around, he gestured at Sam to join him down on the floor.

"Hot-wiring a car," Dean introduced, popping off the panel to reveal a twisted mass of wires. With a dexterity Sam had never quite been able to figure out from someone so large, he selected three specific wires.

After a winded explanation during which Dean prepped the wires, Sam had to take a step back, almost backing under the seat as sparks flew. "See?" Dean asked with a grin. "Easy as pie." The engine gave an unhappy grunt as it tried to start, but the car was too far gone to turn on again.

Once the 'lesson' in car repair was over, the brothers both relaxed with drinks in hand. Dean sat on the cooler next to Rumsfeld, absently scratching behind the dog's ears, and Sam was sitting cross-legged on the slick black hood of the Impala, balancing a plate-sized bottlecap in front of him. Sitting on the hood put Sam only about a foot below eye-level for Dean, far closer than he usually was unless he was hanging out on a shoulder. He smiled as he sipped from his bottlecap, enjoying the odd normalcy they'd both found.

* * *

The rest of the day passed by smoothly. Sam went back inside, trying to avoid the dog in his attempts to explore the rest of the house. Dean stuck with the repairs all the way until lunchtime. Both brothers left Bobby to grumbling over the phone to various hunters that worked with him, _especially_ Garth.

Dean, naturally, showed up exactly when Bobby was cooking up some dinner. It was almost like he had an alarm in his head that let him know when the food was done. _I'll have to make sure the windows are closed if I want the food to myself,_ Bobby grumbled internally.

Though he did grumble on principal, in reality he didn't actually mind sharing. The boys were like family to him. Ever since finding out that Sam was _alive,_ he'd offered them a place to stay at his house, but this was the first time they'd taken him up on the offer.

Dean and Bobby dug into the hamburgers, content with a quiet meal. There was no sign of Sam at first, though Bobby saw Dean carefully taking a bit of everything he had and placing it on the edge of his plate. He'd even made an attempt at a mini-sandwich, putting a bit of hamburger between two pieces of bread and attempting to make it small enough that Sam could eat it without taking it apart. Bobby hid a smile behind his own sandwich, heartened every time he saw the careful way Dean conducted himself around Sam.

About five minutes in, the sound of Rumsfeld pushing open a door came from upstairs. When he bounded down, Sam was sitting on his head, clutching the fur he was on so he wouldn't get thrown by the bounding footsteps. He had a huge grin on his face, clearly enjoying himself.

Dean straightened in his chair, opening his mouth to call out for Sam when Bobby grabbed his arm, silencing him.

" _What?_ " Dean demanded quietly in annoyance.

Bobby nodded towards Sam and the dog. They made it to the kitchen counter, Sam clambering off Rumsfeld's head and jogging over to the bag of treats Bobby had been sure to leave out ever since he'd seen the pair that morning. "Do you know how much trust it takes for him to be so out in the open around us all the time?"

Both hunters sat there, watching Sam from afar. So far, there was no sign that he had heard a word that either of them had said. He finally got the little bag open, tossing one of the doggie cookies off the counter for Rumsfeld. The dog stood on his back feet to catch it, putting on a show for his little friend and bringing a brief smile to the humans that were sitting a room over.

Bobby sobered up. "Every instinct he has is _screaming_ at him to get under cover, all day, every day. I've talked to a few of them whenever I got the chance. They hate how it feels being out in the open like that. Even Sam, who's still a human like us, would have those instincts ground into him from the moment he shrank down." He let out a small smile. "But here he is, trusting us so much he's out in the open almost the entire day. The least we can do is give him his space and let him have his freedom. He'll come over when he's ready, don't you worry."

Dean slumped down a bit at that, eyes blinking in disbelief. "I ah... I didn't realize how hard it could be, and… he still trusts us."

"Us? That boy barely knows me anymore. He trusts _you_. Sure, he'll come hang out with me from time to time, but you… somehow, you've managed to earn his trust completely. I've never seen someone that size let down his guard so easily around a human, but of all the people out there, _you_ managed to do it."

A bit of pride glimmered in Dean's eyes at that proclamation, but he didn't have time to respond. Rumsfeld trotted into the room, Sam back with him once again, a huge grin on his face at the meal that was sitting out on the table.

Both hunters watched with slight fascination as Sam pulled himself up onto the table. When Dean had first found him, he'd been fairly scrawny, thin from years of not eating well and having to scrounge for meals. Ever since joining up with his big brother, he'd started to fill out, a lean, muscled body showing through. Those days he'd been kidnapped had made him regress a little to the thinner Sam, but now, he was at last fully recovered. Even at only four inches tall you could easily see the strong muscles in his arms, built up over years of climbing and finally becoming prominent the way they were meant to be.

Sam spotted the mini-sandwich as he jogged over to Dean's plate and didn't waste any time digging in himself. The rest of dinner was quiet and comfortable, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

Late that night, Sam hauled himself up onto the countertop in the kitchen, glancing around to see if anything was out of place.

A small part of him, the part that had lived all those years in the _Trails West Motel,_ refused to let his guard down completely, even here. His every sense was tingling, well aware of the difference between a human coming and the settling of the house around him.

The trip to the kitchen had been a good way to help clear his head. Even Rumsfeld had settled down to sleep earlier on, so Sam didn't have to worry about the dog shadowing him outside of the walls. He'd found a passageway that trailed down the walls, using the support beams that stretched throughout the interior to pick his way cautiously down. It had the impression of a well-used trail, but a thick layer of dust covered it, reaffirming Sam's thought that any people who'd lived here had long since left.

He set out towards his final destination. Bobby had left out a small bowl full of silver-wrapped Hershey Kisses. He thought a midnight snack might help him settle down, and chocolate was one of those things that he'd had trouble getting while he was growing up.

With a smile, he grabbed one of the chocolates out of the bowl, hefting it to test the weight before tucking it in his bag to start the long trek back to the room.

A light flicked on overhead.

Caught off guard by the sudden brightness, Sam dove behind the bowl of chocolates, his hand instinctively going to his knife. There was a silence, pregnant with expectation as he and the person that had just walked into the kitchen took in the situation. Then...

"Sam? Was that you?"

Dean.

For a few seconds, Sam was torn. He could stay here and either Dean would brush it off as his overactive imagination or he'd assume Sam wanted to be left alone. Or, Sam could just show himself. It wasn't like he'd be in any danger, after all.

There were a few thudding steps towards the counter before Dean paused again. "Y'know, I can _see_ you, pint-size."

Sam jerked away, realizing his boot was sticking out from behind the bowl. Sheepish, he stood, brushing his jacket off and trying to play it cool. Too bad that ship had sailed.

Dean's eyes fell on the chocolate Sam had in his arms, his eyes softening. He came over to the counter, crouching down so they could see eye-to-eye. "Sam, you know you don't have to sneak around at all, right? Or scavenge for food?"

For a few long moments, Sam stared down at the chocolate in his arms, a flush rising to his cheeks at the reminder of how _different_ it all was for Dean. Even seeing how easy it was for him to do something as simple as crossing the room made a worm of jealousy squirm inside Sam. He had to be on his guard the entire time, otherwise he might end up having to dodge massive boots at any second, not to mention how he had to scale the counters to get anywhere.

He finally managed to respond to Dean. "But... this is what I _am,_ now."

Dean chewed his lip thoughtfully. "You don't have to be, Sam," he said. "You're... not the same person you were all those years. You've come a long way, and you have me now." He gave Sam a wink before faltering at the expression on his face. "This-" he gestured at the chocolate Sam was holding. "You don't have to do this anymore, kid."

By the time Dean finished, Sam's ears were burning in embarrassment. He must look so pathetic to a human like this. An hour of work and all he had to show for it was a chocolate. "I... I don't want you to ever think you have to 'take care' of me, alright? I can take care of myself."

Understanding started to blossom behind Dean's eyes as he realized what he must sound like to Sam. Patronizing. Condescending. The same way their father had sounded before Walt had torn into him, not even caring about the size of the person that he was yelling at.

"Shit, Sam. That's not what I mean."

When Sam showed no response to his words, Dean grabbed a chair, pulling it up to the counter so he could sit. "I know you can take care of yourself, man. Hell, you've taken care of me more times than I can count." He gave Sam a hesitant smile. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to... sneak chocolates in the middle of the night. Asking me for some food isn't gonna make me think any less of you."

Sam blinked down at the chocolate. One of his favorite snacks, and he'd gotten it without being afraid of getting caught or grabbed at all. "Sorry..." he said quietly. "But, Dean. You... you need to remember, this is _me_ now. I... I can't just get around the house like you and Bobby. I can't just walk down the hallway, or pop in the kitchen to grab a snack. Any of those could get me stepped on, or caught by another human. I'm _different,_ y'know? And it's okay. I don't mind being this way." His eyes were shining with hidden tears when he finished, staring up at his big brother.

Now, Dean was the one whose ears were burning. "I didn't mean it that way..." he mumbled. Dean dropped his head in his hands. "I just want you to be _you,_ Sam. Do things your way. Just... ignore me, alright?"

Sam came over to the edge of the counter, sitting with his legs hanging off. "Dean, chill, alright? I'm fine. I know what you mean. I just... _can't_ do the things you do."

Dean glanced up at that, his own eyes shining a bit in the overhead light. "Yeah, I know. I just wish it could be different. That _you_ could be..." he sighed, slumping down. "I can't even find a way to break one stupid curse for my brother," he growled at himself.

That surprised Sam more than anything else that night. "Dean... that's not your fault. The witch even _told_ us it can't be broken. You shouldn't worry so much about it."

" _Nothing's_ unbreakable," Dean burst out, as though Sam had broken down a dam with his words. "There's _always_ a way, and I want to find it for you. Whatever it takes. That way you can walk down a stupid hallway and not have to worry about your stupid brother stomping around in his stupid boots."

Sam felt his shoulders relax. "Dean..." he said in a commanding voice, dragging all attention back to him. "Stop it." The green eyes snapped up at him. "Just _stop_ already. I..." he paused for a second before going on. "Dean, I don't want you to look anymore."

Dean's lips parted in a cross between confusion, desperation and amazement, but before he could interrupt, Sam took over the conversation, barreling on. It was _his_ turn.

"Dean, what would I do if I was human? I've been 'dead' going on fourteen years now. I don't know what to do with money, I can't drive a car... and I don't know how to interact with other... humans... anymore. We're wasting our time trying to break the unbreakable. People need help. We need to focus on that. I have people who care about me, I have a place to live, and I've got you. This is what I am and you need to accept that."

With that said, Sam got up from the edge. He gathered his bag up and tucked the chocolate away before turning back to his brother... his all-too-human brother.

The expression in Dean's eyes wasn't angry, or upset. It was... almost betrayed, for a moment. Then it switched to the more familiar guilt.

Sam gave Dean his most heartwarming smile. "Just remember, I'm happy the way I am. I don't want you thinking any of this is your fault. Please. I just think we need to move on now, get used to the fact that I'm gonna be like this for the rest of my life. There's no easy fix for this.

"But that's okay. I've got you, after all, and that's all that matters."


	4. A Good Life

Before heading back, Dean got a glass of water (apparently that's all he'd been after when he came down to the kitchen in the first place), and Sam readied himself for the return journey. He had no intention of asking for help after everything else he'd said that night.

Anchoring his hook, Sam tested the cord, making sure it was solidly in the crack on the counter. Once he was ready, he swung down, starting his journey.

Dean continued leaning casually against the counter while Sam scaled down it. His sharp green eyes watched the small hunter's every move. For the first time, Sam realized he didn't get the familiar, prickling sensation down the back of his neck that he got around other humans - even humans like Bobby and John, whom he knew didn't mean him any harm. He could still sense he was being watched, but there was no tension, no danger in the sensation.

The epiphany hit him like a brick wall as he realized what that meant. Past his skittishness, past the occasional bouts of panic he still wasn't over, it was almost hardwired into Sam that Dean was _safe_. His _instincts,_ trained and honed for years to recognize any human as a threat, had accepted Dean in a way Sam had never thought possible. Against all odds he was completely comfortable around the human hunter. Dean had snuck his way past Sam's barriers.

Dean finished sipping his water just as Sam let go of his line a few inches from the ground, dropping swiftly with a near-inaudible thump. He landed nimbly on his feet, glad the pain in his legs from the past months was gone at last. With a casual _flick!_ of his wrist, he released the hook, catching it as it fell.

Sam turned to leave the room, briefly eyeing Dean as he did. _Is he planning on staying up?_ he found himself wondering. Despite himself, Sam sped up to a light jog to get away from the middle of the floor, passing swiftly by Dean's boots. There was danger in the center, the place humans like Dean walked, and his instincts, already screaming at him constantly with his constant exposure to not one, but _two_ humans, would not be denied.

He flinched when the ground rumbled behind him. Twisting around, he realized that Dean, after dropping his glass off in the sink, had chosen to follow after Sam. The second boot hit the ground with a heavy thud as Dean saw that Sam had stopped. He paused in place.

"Everythin' alright?" he asked Sam, curiosity in his tone.

Sam glanced at the ground before answering. "Did... didja want me to..." he trailed off, gesturing at the walkway he was standing in. If Dean wanted to get by, he had no problem moving out of the way. It was nerve wracking enough standing in a place where humans walked through all the time, Dean or no Dean.

Dean saw what he meant. "I'm in no hurry here," he drawled. "Unless you have a hot date somewhere I don't know about, take your time."

Confused, Sam turned away. He resumed his light jog, knowing walking in the expansive human home would take him ages to get anywhere. After all, his legs couldn't be longer than two inches, at the most. It wasn't easy getting around in a place made for people who measured their height in feet instead of inches.

The floor trembled under him again as Dean resumed walking. Sam's heart jumped to his throat at the thought of something that devastatingly huge coming up behind him.

Nervous, he chanced a glance behind him again. Dean's boot hit the ground, keeping a foot between the wall of leather and the small hunter. Neither boot moved again until Sam had gained another foot with his small strides.

Crossing the threshold of the kitchen, Sam belatedly realized what was happening.

Dean was _walking with him._

The entire time they'd been going, Dean's demeanor was completely relaxed and casual, each step placed a safe distance behind Sam while they went. No rush, no worry, just a guy, hanging out with his younger brother. It wasn't something Sam had ever expected to do, not with how different he and Dean were now. After all, a single pace of Dean's would take Sam ten seconds to cross on his own. What person wants to stand around and wait for that long? Even at an all-out run, Sam could never hope to keep up with the most casual stroll with how outsized he was.

But Dean had calmly reversed their roles without a word, making it so _Dean_ was the one keeping up with _Sam._

Once he realized this, Sam craned his neck, meeting Dean's reassuring grin far above. "Thanks."

Before Dean could respond to that, Sam whipped around and resumed his jog. The dusty, well-worn wood grain was rough beneath his feet, little puffs of dust bunnies scattered by his passage. Beneath his small feet, it wasn't a smooth journey like it was for Dean, but rough and uneven, sometimes to the extent where he'd need to make small detours around thick knots, places where cracks in the ground could be deep enough for Sam to get a foot stuck. Years of foot traffic had left their mark on the once-smooth flooring.

The kitchen light flicked off behind him about a minute after he'd passed out of the room. Caught by surprise, Sam froze, twisting nervously around to see what Dean was doing.

In the soft light cast from the hall, Dean gave Sam a "Who? Me?" look in return, trying to pretend like he hadn't been the one to startle Sam this time. Shaking his head in resignation, Sam resumed his jog.

It went like that all the way to the bottom of the stairs. Sam paused when he made it to the steps. Rumsfeld was sleeping there, curled up in front of the bottom step. Taking a short break from his run, Sam leaned over the dog's muzzle, giving him a light rub. Rumsfeld mumbled in his sleep, shifting a bit so the small hands could reach higher on his head.

A shadow cast from behind fell on them both, turning the area around Sam dark as Dean knelt down. A hand rubbed Rumsfeld behind the ears, making the dog's warm, chocolate eyes flick tiredly open to see who was visiting him that late at night. Taking in the two brothers, he didn't even grumble up at Dean. He'd finally accepted the older hunter as a friend to little people like Sam. The eyes shut and his tail wagged a few times before he slipped back into his own dream world, letting out a content sigh as Dean gathered Sam up so they could tackle the stairs together.

* * *

The next few days were more of a haze to Sam than anything. Warm afternoons were spent mapping out every tunnel and hidden passage in Bobby's house. He started to get a hang on his directions there even as the bracelet he was making for Dean started to take form, slowly threaded together from an eclectic collection of fabric and threads he'd found. He'd managed to find several pieces in dark colors, greens and blues and blacks, so now it wouldn't stand out as a ragtag collection of random fabrics. It was starting to come together.

The hardest part was judging how big he'd have to make the bracelet so it would actually fit Dean's wrist. Too small, it would be no good. Too big, and he'd probably end up with a necklace. He tried to size up the arm once or twice when he walked over it, and managed to sneak a peek at Dean's clunky watch that he always used. The watch gave him a far better estimation of how big he'd need to go.

Dean made progress on the Impala during those days. When Sam would check up on him, either from the kitchen window or by hitching a ride with Rumsfeld, he saw the burn marks slowly fade away. The chrome shine that he knew so well started to replace the destroyed parts of the car. New tires replaced the scorched set from before and Dean started to spend a lot of time underneath the car on his creeper, working on something he hadn't mentioned to Sam.

With Dean sufficiently distracted and caught up with his work on the car, he missed when it happened.

Sam had gone to find Rumsfeld that afternoon. The dog had finally started to ease off and let him explore without shadowing his every move. Rumsfeld had been hanging out in the kitchen with Bobby when Sam had found him at last. He wanted to go out and visit Dean again, planning on telling him an idea he'd had stuck in his head since they were up one night watching movies. He'd seen Morse Code being used and it had struck him that it would be an ingenious way to communicate with Dean during cases. He could pound out code with no one but Dean being the wiser, and Dean could do the same if he wanted to let Sam know something. It was perfect for them.

He found the sleepy dog, roused him, and climbed to his usual place at the back of the head. Bobby watched them leave with a small wave. The dog nosed the back door open and they were off and running.

To Sam's shock, the dog's long, loping stride carried them swiftly past Dean and the Impala. The hunter was stretched out underneath the car with only his boots and jeans visible, just like he'd been the day before. Dean was so intent on the repairs, he never even glanced at them as they passed him by.

Sam felt a thrill of fear and excitement fill him as he realized they were leaving the familiar behind and entering a world he'd never before seen. His hands tensed on the fur he was sitting on. "Rumsfeld, what...?"

The dog cut him off with a rumbling growl, giving Sam a yelp of reassurance that almost sounded like he was trying to say 'trust me!'

Sam hunkered down on his perch, staring warily up at the sky for any birds of prey that might be out, knowing he'd be considered an easy meal without Rumsfeld around. "I hope you know what you're doing..." he said quietly.

It wasn't a long trip. The part that made it feel like it was going on forever was the way Sam realized that Dean would have no way to know where he was, no way to find him if things went to hell. The junkyard swiftly fell behind, replaced with a tall, sweeping grassland.

The field behind Bobby's.

As kids, both brothers had spent time out here, playing around and goofing off. There was a tiny stream that meandered its way through the field, hidden by overgrown blades of grass. Trees speckled the horizon, walling off Bobby's land from his neighbors. More than once, Sam had found himself climbing up those trees to show off to Dean. The older brother could climb well enough, but never wanted to go higher than twelve feet off the ground at the most, unless it was for a real problem.

It was probably lucky, in some odd way, that Sam was the one that had shrunk. Dean wouldn't have done well being downsized, that was for sure. He'd probably have been teased mercilessly by Krissy growing up. She wasn't quite as fast as Sam at climbing, but she'd have demolished Dean for sure.

Sam could hear the stream in the distance when Rumsfeld came to a sudden halt. He almost fell from his perch at the abrupt stop.

"What's up, boy?" he asked curiously, glancing around at his surroundings.

Rumsfeld let out a whine, then a sharp bark. Sam found his seat dropping down as the dog flattened himself against the ground, clearly meaning for him to get off.

Tall stalks of grass stretched over their heads. Even with the dog standing they couldn't see over it, and now it was like Sam was in a whole different world. The soft soil of the ground was covered by a layer of rocks, gravel and decaying plants that were being broken down by time and the elements. A steady line of ants was marching by at the very edge of sight, paying no mind to the massive dog in their midst.

The grass wavered about a foot away from where Rumsfeld was laying down, and Sam's breath caught in his throat.

A girl came into view.

Pushing a few sturdy stalks of grass out of her way, she stood no more than three and a half inches tall with blazing red hair that curled and frizzed like an unkempt mane that reached her shoulders. She blinked up bright green eyes at Sam and the dog in surprise, her mouth falling into an 'O' when she saw Sam sitting on the dog's head.

Sam's mouth was just barely open to call out to her when she darted back into the grass in surprise.

"Hey, wait!" he called out. He almost stumbled off the dog's head in his surprise, trying to catch her. Before he could run off, he paused and glanced back at Rumsfeld. "Stay here, okay?" he said sternly, holding out a hand.

Rumsfeld grumbled at him, then stretched out into a more comfortable position. Sam said a quick prayer that he wasn't going to be left in the field on his own, then darted after the girl.

It only took him a few inches past the solid wall of grass that separated him from Rumsfeld for Sam to realize that this might not have been one of his better plans.

Insects darted out of his path, clearing the way. A faded set of footprints was all he had to go on. She left no other trace for him to follow at all, vanishing like a ghost in the cornfields. Letting a solid line of swears march through his mind at the sheer recklessness of this plan, Sam tried to move faster, hoping to find her before he got himself hopelessly lost from even Rumsfeld.

After he'd run a frantic foot or two like that, he realized the grass was beginning to grow sparse. He spotted a dark opening ahead of him, like a cave in the mountains, then...

Froze.

An older man, only a tenth of an inch shorter than Sam, was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. His sharp red hair was kept short and eyes just like the girl's stared out at Sam, only widening a little when he saw the hunter run into sight.

The man recovered first, drawing himself up straight and using every centimeter of height he had to him. "I can't say this was what I was expecting when I woke up today," he started gruffly, "but Alyssa told me she saw the dog bring a man. She got a excited when she saw you and ran off to tell me."

"Ah... uh..." Sam couldn't quite bring himself back together enough to respond to the other man. "Alyssa?" he managed to blurt out in confusion.

The man nodded sharply. "That's right." He held a hand out to Sam, who stared at it in honest confusion. Red eyebrows climbed his face as he stood there. "Don't they shake hands where you come from, boy?"

"Uh, yes, yes they do. Sorry," Sam managed to stutter out. He thrust his own hand out for a firm handshake, startled at such a normal motion. It had been _years_ since he'd been offered a handshake, and that had been only joking, since he'd been a child at the time.

"My name's Arthur," the other man introduced himself. "And you are...?"

"Oh, sorry! My name's Sam," Sam gave his most charming smile despite being continuously flustered. "I really just wasn't expecting to find... people out here, really. You caught me off guard."

Arthur gave a sharp nod, gesturing for Sam to follow him. Sam's face morphed into an expression of awe as he saw where the other man was going.

Arthur continued on as he walked and Sam had to hurry to keep up, even with the other man's shorter strides. "Most people are surprised when they first arrive. After all, we don't live in a conventional home like normal, but it's a good life."

They entered a large opening in the ground, the cave that Sam had seen in the distance as he was following after the frizzy-haired girl. Soil was packed densely on all sides as they walked down a steep slope. Light filtered in from the opening above, and a soft glow came from below. He practically had to choke back a stream of questioning while the other man continued talking.

"I have to say, it's been some time since the dog came to visit us, usually..."

"Who, Rumsfeld?" Sam interrupted in surprised.

The green eyes were keen and suspicious when they turned on Sam. "Is that his name?"

"Yeah," Sam said, as he glanced around at his surroundings, wide-eyed. Now that they were far enough into the burrow in the ground, he could see that this place had a warmth to it that an animal lair would lack. Small bushels of grass were gathered and clumped together with a fine string tying them into a tight bunch. Sticks had been propped up against the walls, serving as supports to keep the soil from collapsing down on them and farther along, Sam could see two decent sized rocks that would be big enough to cover the entrance tunnel if ever needed.

Arthur frowned severely at him. "And how did you find that out?" he asked. "Does it have something to do with the way you were actually _riding_ him?"

Sam shrugged at that with a laugh. "He... kinda insists I sit up there," he said dryly. "And I... picked up his name from the humans. That's what they called him." He decided that for the moment it would be best to hide his actual relation to the humans involved from these people. No one his size had ever been welcoming to humans, and he had a burning curiosity about these people that lived out here in the wild.

There was a long moment of silence between them as Arthur looked him up and down, inspecting his clothing down to the stray threads on his sleeve. Sam stiffened a little at that, remembering too late how odd he must seem in his clothing that had been modeled after what humans wore.

Arthur chose not to question that at the moment. He simply took Sam in, then turned away. "So, you're from the House?" he asked simply, leading the way farther in.

Sam stepped quick to keep up. "Yeah, I guess I am," he admitted. "Me an' my brother are just passing through, and Rumsfeld was intent on bringing me out here."

Arthur smirked, the first entertained reaction he'd shown since Sam walked up to him. "He brings people here when they get lost," he explained as they came up to a fork in the tunnel. He led Sam down the right-hand passage. "We used to live up there ourselves before the human turned into a hunter. It was a nice home, but too dangerous to keep after that happened."

"You did?" Internally, Sam started to jot down everything he was hearing. His suspicions about how orderly the walls at Bobby's were had been right. There _had_ been others living there at some time. He remembered Bobby saying how he'd seen Rumsfeld in the fields with people Sam's size and knew these must be them. Sam wondered if Bobby had ever known that they'd used to _live_ with him. He'd be disappointed to know that he'd driven them out, just by what he'd become.

Arthur nodded distractedly. The end of the passage had a fabric curtain blocking off the tunnel and he swept that aside, stepping into a large, cavernous room.

Sam's mouth almost dropped open in surprise at the sight. There were easily a dozen people inside, all busily attending different tasks in their day-to-day life. In one corner a man was working with a sharp metal splinter, descaling a minnow half the length of his body. In another corner there was a small coal pit, being tended by two others that were constantly poking at the coals with one metal pole and one wooden pole. Cobbled-together buckets sat nearby, filled to the brim with water to help quench the flame if it started to act up, and a pile of dirt next to them to smother the flames if that didn't work. A long spit stretched over the coal pit with chopped up pieces of another minnow on it, slowly turning in place. Above, slits had been dug in the soil and had small pipes placed inside for ventilation. Pipes that Sam recognized would come from Bobby's junkyard. They would let out the fumes and any smoke from the fire to prevent suffocation inside the warm cavern.

Still more people were gathered jovially in the center of the room, gamely weaving a long stretch of grass together and forming it into various items, baskets and bowls included. Even a small child was there, shyly peeking out at Sam the moment his presence was noticed.

The talking tapered off as people started to realize there was a stranger in their midst. The frizzy-haired girl from before trotted up to Arthur and Sam with a shy smile sent Sam's way. Her father gave her a sharp look before he held his hands out to the others. "Everyone, welcome Sam. He was brought in by the dog and I opened our doors to him. And his brother, if he manages to come."

Sam mused to himself that Arthur would regret that invitation if he ever realized who exactly his 'brother' was. Dean would never do them any harm, but simply the sight of a human his size would strike fear into these people. He'd just have to hope that Dean didn't figure out where he'd gone. He'd wait until they left Bobby's for _any_ stories of this particular adventure.

"Thank you for the invitation, really," Sam responded. He tried to ignore the way Alyssa kept trying to catch his eyes. "Me and Dean have a home already, so I wouldn't want to intrude. But, this place," Sam gestured up above them, staring at the supports that stretched overhead in surprise. A few columns came down in the center of the room to help support the weight of the ground above - and anything that walked over it. "I've never seen anything like this!" he admitted to the man and his daughter.

Arthur's bearing was proud at his words. "I doubt you'll see its like anywhere else," he proclaimed. He started to walk along.

With introductions over, the others turned to their tasks and only sent the occasional curious glance Sam's direction. Alyssa, who appeared to be a little younger than Sam, perhaps only 18 or 19 years old, skipped along as her father talked, happily keeping pace with the two men.

"We found this place years back, when that human first took up 'hunting,' " Arthur's lips turned to a scowl briefly at the thought of a hunter near his family. "The burrow was abandoned by its former occupants, a family of rabbits, we think, so it provided a warm place for us to rest away from the eyes of the predators that make this field their home."

They paused at the pit of coals. Sam could feel the sharp wall of heat beating at him from five inches away. He couldn't imagine how the two coal tenders felt, only an inch away from the burning pit. A sheen of sweat covered their faces as they worked steadily, making sure to rotate each and every coal. A stack of wood was left to the side and on occasion one would grab a chunk, putting it into the pit to have it burst into flame, and slowly burn down to another red-hot coal. In another corner of the coal pit they would move the burned out husks, and these were removed once the heat had died off completely. The coals that were spent were piled up in a different section to await their next use, perhaps as fertilizer or...

Sam spotted a younger girl with a piece of the burnt out charcoal in her hand, slowly whittling it down to a nub. Beyond her, Sam spotted a few rocks covered in designs. So they even had a way to write...

They moved on and Arthur continued. "We've lived here since Alyssa was born. That first winter was rough. We bundled up as best we could and would try to burn anything that we found for heat. My grandma passed away that year."

Sam bowed his head in respect as he listened. Losing family was never easy. He might have found his family again in the end, but if things had gone only a little different, he would have never seen Dean again. In that scenario, either brother might as well be dead to the other.

"After that we learned how to survive. We insulated the burrow and built up the fire pit. There's a stream out back, and we made a back entrance that leads to it so we can fish. It took some time to figure out how to catch the minnows, but it was well worth the trouble. Even without the berries that we find in the field we can live well off just the fish." Arthur smiled in remembrance. "Sometimes I think this home is far better than any home we could have found in a human house."

They passed by the basket weavers. Hesitant, Sam picked up one of the baskets that had been finished, hefting it curiously. It was amazingly light and flexible, bound up tight enough to hold items that they collected.

Alyssa smiled shyly at him when she saw his interest. "Ma and the others make those so we can gather berries," she said softly. "They don't last long but they're perfect for it. If we lose something like that the humans can't find it and track it back to our home, since the grass decomposes fast."

Sam had to nod at that, impressed at all the different ingenuities they displayed. He carefully put the basket down on the floor.

Arthur waved at some barrels in a hollowed out corner. "What berries we don't need we can distill. It's a good way to kill off infection if you get cut, and makes a good drink otherwise."

Sam was more and more impressed the more he heard, and grateful he was being trusted with such secrets. Even their own way to distill alcohol... "And you came up with all of this yourselves?" he asked curiously.

Arthur shook his head. "Some we came up with, others we learned," he informed Sam. He gestured at the wide-open area with all the people working. There were a few new women in the room, going around with snacks for the workers. Berries were the big thing that they had, but Sam spotted a few roots and mushrooms spread between the baskets they were carrying. "The dog brings new people that he finds lost in the wilderness, and others find their way here on their own. We welcome them all in with open hearts and each contributes in their own way, even if it's as simple as finding ways to dye our clothing different colors."

"This is..." Sam couldn't find it in himself to express his awe. "This is _amazing!_ And no humans. No reliance on any humans." He closed his eyes. "My family never _imagined_ something like this was possible!" He could just imagine what Walt would say about it. And the older man would certainly put his leatherworking to good use here. He might even find a few new students to teach the art to. So far Sam hadn't seen any leather being used by the inhabitants of the burrow. Everyone's shoes were soft cloth, unlike Sam's far more durable boots.

Alyssa came up to him, still flushed a little bit from meeting someone new. He could see why she'd tried to run off at first when her shy eyes met his. "You and your brother would be welcome to live with us," she pointed out, avoiding his eyes with cheeks aflame. "Da keeps our doors open for anyone, and there's more tunnels being dug down below."

Sam grinned down at her. "I'd love to, but -"

His sentence was cut off by a sound from outside, one that dropped everyone's hearts through the floor.

A _human's_ voice.

" _SAM!_ "

* * *

 **A/N**

Everyone has been asking about the borrowers in the field, and I'm proud to present Arthur Harbor and his daughter Alyssa! Welcome to the BA universe.

Of course, I don't think right now they're appreciating the welcome ^^; This is one situation where they really shoulda warned Dean ahead of time. Rumsfeld didn't quite think things through. Silly pup.


	5. Harsh Choices

Dean stood straight, wiping the sweat from his brow as he admired the work on the Impala. He brushed his hands off on one of the rags he had nearby, mindlessly cleaning off what oil and grease he could.

The car was just about done. He'd be able to show Sam what changes he'd made the next day, and finally find out what he'd think of it. He couldn't wait.

Heaving a sigh, Dean trudged back up the stairs to the house, intending to find Sam and let him know the good news. They might even be able to head off on the search for their next case as soon as tomorrow. That thought put a definite bounce in his step as he came into the kitchen.

"Sam!" Dean called out. He took a few steps in, spotting Bobby at the table, buried under research for other hunters. "You seen Sam?"

Bobby frowned up at him as he finished paging through his latest tome. "Last I saw, him an' Rumsfeld headed out to see _you_ ," Bobby stated pointedly.

Dean felt a bit of worry start to tickle at the back of his mind. They'd come to see _him?_ He'd never even _seen_ Sam outside. "When was that?"

" 'Bout an hour ago," Bobby said. He had to cut himself off as he grabbed a phone, switching to his FBI persona. "Willis, FBI..."

Dean left him on his own, going to search the house. Sam couldn't have gone far. Neither him nor the dog had been outside when he'd finished up, so they must have gone back in with Dean unresponsive. He shook his head ruefully. Had he really been that intent on the car?

A steady search of the house didn't turn up Rumsfeld, and Dean caught no glimpses of his four inch brother trying to keep out of sight. Sam had turned hiding from Dean and Bobby into a game during the last four days, and he did pretty good most of the time. Honestly, if it wasn't hunters he was pitting himself against, Dean had no doubt he'd go completely unnoticed. It was a great way to keep his skills sharp.

The worry slowly blossomed into an all out fear. "Sam!" he called out, pounding from room to room in one last sweep. There was _no way_ Sam would miss his stomping around up there. There was still no response from brother or dog.

Dean practically flew past Bobby, who was still on the phone arguing with the local authority of some town or another. He stumbled down the steps, glancing around the yard with a bit of panic leaking into his expression.

"Sam!" he called out, practically praying at this point to see Rumsfeld perk his head up with Sam snickering from his perch on the dog's head at Dean's disquiet.

But there was nothing.

Dean expanded his search. He weaved his way around all of the junked cars that were piled up in the area. All he could see was the dangers out there for Sam. A car could shift position and crush the small hunter and he'd never find him… a hawk could dive down… raccoons could slip in from the fields...

" _SAM!_ "

From the field past the cars, Dean saw Rumsfeld's head perk up among the grass. Unable to believe his eyes, he started to sprint to the dog, praying he'd find his brother out there.

He'd only made it about five steps before he was tackled to the ground from behind.

Dean slammed into the ground, his breath knocked out of him with a gasp. With a struggle, he attempted to kick at his attacker and squirm to grab his gun from his pants. He heard a distant bark from Rumsfeld even as he realized his attacker was just Bobby.

Angrily, Dean pushed his way free. "What the hell?" he demanded of the older man, pulling himself to a stand.

Bobby dragged him back down. "Do you have _any idea_ what the hell you're doing here?" he hissed, keeping his voice down.

Dean shoved the arms off of him. "Yeah. I'm _finding Sam,_ " he snapped angrily. "What the hell _else_ would I be doing?"

"Sam's fine if he's with Rumsfeld!" Bobby growled out. "Doncha remember those people I told you about? That's where they _live_."

Dean froze up a little at the explanation. It all started to make sense. If Sam had found people like him out in the field, he'd want to learn as much about them as possible. Where they had come from, why they were there, how they lived... Dean had a feeling Sam's questions would go on for hours if they let him. He might not have realized how long he'd been gone.

And here Dean was, terrifying everyone.

* * *

As the distant shout rolled across the field, Sam felt himself freeze up.

Arthur turned to him, suspicion shining in those green eyes once more. "Sam," he said flatly. "That's _your_ name."

Alyssa backed away from the pair, suddenly trembling. "That's a human," she said fearfully. "A human's in the field above us!"

Above them, Rumsfeld barked back at Dean, giving away their position. An unfortunate side effect of the dog accepting Dean into his world view as 'safe to little humans.' Sam shrank from the angry glares now aimed in his direction. In their minds, he'd put them all in danger at that moment just by _existing._

Everyone in the burrow was staring at Sam in fearful realization of the name that was being called. He only realized he was actually backing away from them when he ran into the wall, practically cringing by a support.

An earthquake rumbled up through the ground even as one of the fire-tenders ran over to back up Arthur and his daughter. A long metal pole was leveled in Sam's direction, the end glowing with heat from being in the fire all day. The glow of the pole matched the protective glint in the man's eyes. Sam didn't doubt it would be used if they had to. The glares in his direction were as hard as steel.

These people lived a hard life.

Sam held out his hands beseechingly even as the distant rumble of voices - Dean and Bobby - could be heard arguing. "Wait, please! I can explain!"

Arthur crossed his arms with an angry determination. "I think that would be best, boy."

Sam took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the man with the white-hot pole pointed his way. Dean might have prompted this trouble, but the people that lived here deserved to know who he was.

"I wasn't lying. I _am_ just passing through with my brother. We'll be gone in a few days at most." He swallowed dryly. "It's just... my brother. Dean. He's the human you can hear yelling for me."

Sam had to dodge out of the way of the pole as it was jabbed in his direction at those words. "Whoa!" he cried out as the metal almost seared his jacket. "I'm not done yet!" he tried to explain, glaring at the man. He didn't need another jacket with holes burned in it.

Arthur held a hand out. "Give him a chance." He shot an unreadable expression at the other man. "Unless you want to act just like those humans you hate so much, James. Let the boy speak."

After that, Sam had no doubt that Arthur was in charge of everyone else. James backed off, lowering the pole. Sam could see a steady stream of people filing into the cavern. The room already had a minimum of thirty people cowering in it and more were joining them every moment from all directions. Looks of fear adorned their faces as they stared up at the ceiling, in the direction of the distant humans. A phantom pain twinged at Sam's left arm at the memory of what humans could do to these innocents if they ever let their guard down.

Sam kept steady while Arthur talked, thinking over what he'd say. He'd only had to introduce Dean to people his size twice before, and both times he'd had the advantage of Dean rescuing people that had been kidnapped and giving them back their freedom. That had been a much easier obstacle to tackle.

He swallowed nervously again. "We're staying at the House," he started, using the same emphasis for Bobby's house as the others in the burrow did, "until Dean finishes fixing his car." There was a collective gasp at the casual use of 'car' by Sam. None of them had the option of ever going for a joyride like he did, and here he was casually talking about the car his brother actually _owned_. "Our friend Bobby - the hunter you mentioned before - owns the House. And he's never once tried to capture me or trap me, not in all the time I've been there. In fact, he's saved my life before, and would do it again. I'd trust him and Dean to the ends of the earth."

There was a pregnant silence at the end. Sam could feel sweat drip down his back as he prayed they'd believe him. If not, aside from the fact he was being threatened by a pole that could skewer him, these good people might choose to move again, because of _him_. People would die during such an endeavour, maybe even everybody.

Arthur met Sam's gaze steadily, trying to figure out if what he was saying was the truth. "And this Dean... he's out there right now, looking for you?"

Unsteadily, Sam nodded. "Rumsfeld... he just ran off when I was sitting on him. If I'd known what he was planning, I would have warned my brother." He gave a wan smile. "Dean... he's a little overprotective of me. We used to be the same size when we were kids. Then, we got attacked, and I got shrank. Our dad saved Dean and got the hell out of there. I didn't see either of them again for over ten years. Even after a year of traveling with him like this, I'll be the first to admit he's a lot to take in. But he has a good heart, and he just wants to help people... even people like us. He's rescued an entire family from humans that kidnapped them before, and helped them find a new home to live in. One where those people would never find them again." Sam rubbed his arm as his words trailed off.

His eyes were warm and distant when he continued on, remembering everything he'd gone through. "Bobby and Dean, even though they're hunters, will never hurt you or hunt you like you expect them to. They're good people, no matter how big. I promise you that no one will be in danger from them."

By the end, even James had lowered his pole as he listened. Arthur's bearing continued to be steady as he took in all this information at once, slowly going over it in his mind. Sam wondered what he'd been through in the past that made him so calm even now.

"So... Sam," Arthur said calmly. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Sam blinked rapidly, thinking fast. How _could_ he prove any of it? He brushed a hand aimlessly through his messy hair to buy time until a thought occurred to him.

"Well... you could meet him if you wanted."

* * *

After ten long minutes of Bobby and Dean bickering in the grass not far from Rumsfeld, something changed.

Dean heard it first since he was far more attuned to the light voice that was calling his name in the distance. A weight lifted from his shoulders at the knowledge that Sam was fine. Out of sight, but fine...

Dean pulled away from Bobby, who let him up at last with a begrudging look. "Sam?" Dean called out hesitantly. He cautiously picked himself up off the ground, then slowly approached the place where Rumsfeld was lying and where he could hear Sam's voice coming from.

He came up next to the dog. From his vantage, he spotted a dark hole a few feet from Rumsfeld's nose, and a scrap of fabric standing past the tall stalks of grass. Dean took one last step, carefully watching where he stepped. He knew better than anyone how dangerous a single misstep could be to Sam or any others.

A small clearing came into sight.

Sam was standing there, arms crossed casually over his chest. Next to him was a thin man that was almost the same height as Sam, his flaming red hair almost a beacon that shouted out his location, offset by a pale face. His stance was clearly ready to bolt, his eyes wide as he saw the human come barely a few feet away from his home.

"Dean," Sam greeted casually, no emotion showing in his voice.

Dean sank to his knees where he was, unable to contain the amazement on his face at the stunning proof in front of him of the existence of people _here,_ of all places. He wondered if they'd lived here when he and Sam were growing up. The two of them had run through this field more than once during their stays at Bobby's, heedless of any people that size. He couldn't help but imagine how easily they could have terrified people so small.

Behind Sam and the red-haired man was a burrow, a place where animals must have lived at one time. There were clear signs of habitation around it, obvious to Dean's hunter-trained eyes. Small bushels of grass were bound and lined the walls of the burrow, out where the sun could reach them with its rays and dry them out. A small woven basket sat out in the open air, left to collect rainwater. The entire area directly in front of the entrance had been systematically cleared of grass and the other plants that lived in the field. With the tall grass growing on all sides, it was easily kept hidden.

All in all, the tunnel itself was barely big enough for Dean to be able to put his arm in it, but it gave Sam about an inch clearance above the top of his head. Supports lined the tunnel, keeping the soil and rocks in place so there would be no cave-ins.

Dean put a hand flat on the ground to help keep his balance as he leaned in a little, and Sam continued on. "Arthur, this is my brother, Dean Winchester." Sam turned his eyes up to Dean with a faint scolding expression in them. Dean could almost hear the lecture behind that look. _Behave!_

"And Dean, this is Arthur Harbor. He and his family call this field their home."

"P-pleasure," Dean managed to stammer out in his surprise. He could hear Bobby shifting curiously where he'd been left, trying to hear what was going on ahead of him.

Arthur took a nervous step back from the power in Dean's rumbling voice, then steeled himself. "Likewise." The voice that came out was an octave lower than Sam's. "So you're a hunter. From the House."

Dean's trained ear picked up the different inflection given to 'the House.' He gave Arthur a smile, trying to minimize any intimidation as much as possible. "That's right. But we're just rolling through, staying for a few nights."

After his voice stopped rumbling in the air, there was a moment while Arthur scanned him up and down. Dean caught sight of a few curious faces peeking out of the tunnel at him, hiding like nervous animals. After seeing the treatment the people like Sam received at the hands of people like the Mangas family, Dean understood the sentiment all too well.

Arthur's voice drew him out of his thoughts. "You know where we live," he said, his voice severe. It was reminiscent of when Walt would scold him or Sam. "I need to know that my family is safe, but understand that even a promise from a hunter like you would be hard to trust." He crossed his arms in an imitation of Sam's stance.

Dean's voice softened when he responded. "I understand. I know how hard it can be to trust. I'm still afraid of introducing Sam to the wrong people, even though I used to call them 'friends,' so I know all too well. If you want to leave, we won't try to stop you. But if you stay, you have my word that we'll leave you in peace. This is your home. You don't need to leave it."

He rubbed a hand over Rumsfeld's head. "This mutt wouldn't have it any other way. He already tried to kick my ass over _Sam_ one time."

Rumsfeld grumbled at that, lying his head down on the ground next to Dean. His warm, chocolate eyes watched the smaller people through the stalks of grass, waiting for their decision just like Dean.

Arthur's gaze trailed over to the hand Dean still had resting on the ground, barely two feet away. If the hunter wanted too, he could just grab Arthur and his family in that massive hand and stuff them into his pockets. Even hiding in the burrow wouldn't do much, as a human could easily dig up the ground around them, destroying all of their hard-fought lives. The spear that James wielded would buy them mere seconds against a truly determined human.

He took a deep breath. "I must discuss this with the others."

His steps were unsteady and nervous as he turned his back on the hunter for the first time, expecting the human to show his true colors at any moment as his 'prey' escaped back into the ground. At least if that happened, Alyssa and the others might have enough of a head start to get out of the burrow from one of the other exits. They might yet survive.

But nothing happened.

"Da!"

Alyssa was there when he faltered, his legs turned to jelly from talking to a _hunter_ face-to-face. She kept him standing, draping his arm over her shoulders. He was brought over to the wall and braced against one of the sticks for support. A wooden bowl of hot broth was pressed into his hands.

He drank a few sips, ignoring the scalding temperature. Some of his strength started to return to him as the warmth filled him from the inside. "Thanks," he said, keeping his voice low so the human above wouldn't hear them.

"Da, will we have to move?" Alyssa asked, her slim hands still on his arm for support.

"I... I don't know," he admitted, feeling that worry rise up in him. The worry that they'd have to leave such a perfect home where they'd been safe for years. Worry that his family wouldn't survive the trip, that he or his daughter would succumb to the elements if they tried.

His eyes jumped to the entrance. From this far down the tunnel, all they could make out was Dean's huge shadow. He realized Sam hadn't followed him in.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose between a finger and thumb, shutting his eyes. "What are they doing out there?" he asked tiredly. He was getting too old for this.

"Arguing, mostly," Daneera informed him, her sharp gaze unwavering from the entrance. She'd been keeping a lookout since he'd returned to them. She was one of the newer women that had found her way to them but had quickly become one of his trusted confidants. "If they were the same size, there'd be no question that they were brothers. In fact, it _sounds_ like Dean is getting quite a scolding from Sam about this entire thing."

 _That_ caught everyone's attention. "Wait, what?" Arthur asked in confusion. "Did you mix them up?" He could hear the voices rumble in the distance but couldn't make out any of the words.

She jabbed a finger up the tunnel. "What do you take me for, Harbor. I think I know who's who. The entire time you left them alone, they've been arguing nonstop. Plus, I think Sam's _winning._ "

Neera wasn't lying. Arthur edged up the tunnel, watching a scene unfold that felt like it was placed in a completely different world.

One where humans actually _listened._

* * *

The moment Arthur was out of sight, Sam turned a smoldering glare up to his obnoxiously huge brother.

"Dude," he snipped. "What. The. Hell!"

"Hey!" Dean said defensively. He held up a hand to try and forestall the coming storm. "You can _not_ blame that on me!"

Sam continued glaring at him. "Yeah? And who else _should_ I blame? Bobby? He _knows_ where they live. The last thing he'd do is _stomp around_ and terrify everyone!" he paused for a moment with a brief sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bobby, you might as well come out now. You're not hiding from anyone over there." Even from a distance, the sound of breathing was easy enough to pick up.

Almost sheepishly, Bobby stood and carefully picked his way over to Sam and Dean, standing a few feet past Rumsfeld so he didn't crowd the small entrance.

Or risk standing on anyone's roof.

Sam focused back on Dean, who was looking far less like an intimidating hunter and far more like a little kid or a puppy that had been caught in the act of something they knew was wrong.

"Sam... I..."

Sam held up a hand to stop him in his tracks. "Don't tell _me,_ tell _them._ Do you have any idea how dangerous it'll be if they decide they need to move away?"

Dean's throat bobbed in an uneasy swallow at that reminder. He knew. He knew all too well. But he still wanted Sam to understand. "Sam, what if you were in trouble? The last time we lost track of you, you got attacked by a spider. I don't want to risk losing you!"

Sam's shoulders slumped at that reminder. "I know. It's just... you need to trust me, Dean, alright? I can handle myself a lot better than everyone seems to think. I know exactly how careful I need to be."

"Sam..." Dean shifted his hand closer, touching at Sam's arm in a supportive gesture. "I _do_ trust you. It's _me_ I don't trust. Somewhere down the line I'm gonna screw up and you'll suffer because of it. It always happens."

Sam rolled his eyes and snorted. "We both know that's not gonna happen." He shoved the hand away as best he could. "Careful, you might end up on a soap opera if you keep going on like this," he joked.

Dean scowled down at Sam and poked him in the side. "Well, if you keep goin' on like this you'll be right there with me, pint-size."

Bobby interrupted. "You boys got company," he informed them.

Sam twitched away from Dean, giving the hand one last bat for good measure. He tried to regain his balance and stood tall, pretending he hadn't just been arguing his head off. "Arthur," he said, the calm voice expertly hiding his annoyance at Dean.

Arthur was standing there with his daughter at his side this time. She was very close to him and refused to take her eyes off Dean's imposing form in front of them.

"Sam. Dean." Arthur nodded at each brother in turn. He faltered a little when he spotted Bobby. "And you must be the other hunter Sam mentioned. Bobby."

Bobby tilted his head, as solemn as the smaller man. He hid any sign of amazement at finally meeting the people that had lived near him after so long. And it only took Sam's first week of visiting to do it. "I am indeed. Bobby Singer, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Arthur turned his attention back to Sam, the least intimidating of the outsiders. "We've discussed our options and have decided to remain here for the time being," he informed them. He tilted his head to include the two humans in his statement. "We will hold open the option to relocate in the future. Sam is welcome to visit at any time, but if either of you accompany him, or come out here on your own, I would ask that you give our home a wide berth - no closer than five feet would be best. Our home is sturdy, but the risk of collapse is great if a human walks over it too often."

He hesitated before finishing. Not many agreed with him in his last decision, but Arthur had founded the burrow. It had become his call simply by seniority. "No other humans are welcome here. I ask that you keep this a secret, or we _will_ leave. But, if ever you run into another person like us that is in need of help, or has lost their home, our doors are always open. We would never turn them away."

With that said, he clasped his hands behind his back and awaited their answer.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Dean, you are making a mess of things, what are you thinking? Now Sam has to clean up after you!

Silly older brother and worrying over Sammy.

Next Chapter coming December 4th


	6. New Horizons

Sam didn't even need to consider his answer but he glanced up at Dean and Bobby first. The important part of the promise would need to come from them, after all. The people here would have a hard time believing that Sam made the decisions for humans on occasion. Or even at all.

Sam's trust in the hunters paid off. Bobby bobbed his head in acknowledgement of Arthur's words. "That's more'n fair," he grumbled in reply, his gruff voice lowered for everyone's benefit. "Though lord knows I can't keep all the children that wander through off my property. They tend to slip through." His voice was full of warning for things he couldn't control. He shifted so he was leaning a little closer. "Jus' you remember, you're as welcome in my house as Sam and Dean, if you ever need it."

Dean nodded along with him. "Sorry for the whole, uh... stomping around thing."

Sam smirked, glad to see the tension lessening between the humans and the people his size. "Heavyweight," he jabbed at his brother.

Dean nudged him in the side. "Not my fault you're weightless, shorty."

The lighthearted teasing didn't even make Sam nervous this time, a fact that made his chest (and Dean's) blossom with warm pride.

Arthur shook his head, baffled by the brothers' interaction - it was so _normal,_ despite their differences. "You are _not_ what I expected out of humans," he informed Dean and Bobby. "I find myself curious how this will go."

A voice called to him and Alyssa from the entrance to the tunnel. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes tightening a little before he turned his attention back to the humans. "Sam. You're always welcome here with us, no matter who or _what_ you used to be. We would never deny you a place because of it. And... your humans don't seem to be as bad as we were taught they'd be."

Sam's thoughts on how Dean and Bobby had been referred to as 'his humans' were interrupted when Arthur stuck out a hand for Sam to shake.

"I'll try to keep an open mind for the future," Arthur said dryly. "I have a feeling we're going to need it. Things are changing these days, faster than I can keep up." He gave the humans one last solemn nod before he turned to leave.

Sam watched as he and his daughter vanished into the cavernous opening, a little shocked at the way it had all gone. He'd expected them to leave Bobby's property and never look back. Something must have convinced them to stay.

He found himself wondering what it could have been even as he scaled up the arm Dean still had braced against the ground. When he reached the 'summit,' instead of just sitting down and securing himself like normal, he gave Dean's neck a resounding smack.

 _Then_ sat down.

"Ow!" Dean griped, going to a stand even as he tried to rub the place he'd been hit. With Sam sitting square in the way, he only succeeded in his fingers getting smacked out of the way by a tiny hand. "Dude, what the hell?!"

"You have to ask?" Sam snipped back as Dean and Bobby started to pick their way through the field to return to the house. Both were extra cautious about where they put their boots now that they'd finally met the people that called the field their home.

Rumsfeld didn't move, merely watching the trio leave. He lay his head back onto the ground, letting out a sigh as he watched the burrow hopefully, wanting to see if anyone would come pay him a visit after all the excitement.

Once again, Bobby was smart enough to stay out of the bickering, though he was clearly holding in a smile during the journey back.

At the same time, he found himself going over the revelation of Arthur and the others. Never in his life had he expected to have the opportunity to _meet_ them, though in the past he'd had occasion to see some of Sam's people, including one blond man he'd rescued from a cage years back.

That time, the man hadn't said a word the entire time he'd been trapped, simply watching Bobby pick the lock of his cage with suspicion clear on his face. After opening the cage and carefully lifting it to the ground, Bobby had received a sharp nod of approval past the suspicion and the fear. It was more than he'd expected to receive, easily, especially after the way humans had carelessly trapped him like that. He'd even seen a second of respect flash through those small blue eyes, seconds before the man vanished beneath a bed.

Never to be seen by Bobby at that motel again.

Before discovering Sam, he'd only ever talked to two others. During two separate cases, he'd been warily approached once they'd discovered what he was really there for (and it had nothing to do with capturing them). They'd given him the information he'd needed to save lives and he'd be forever grateful to them.

For years he'd been afraid of sharing the secret of the littles he'd stumbled over with other hunters, especially one John Winchester. He found himself wondering if it would have helped if he'd told Dean sooner. Would the brothers have adjusted to each other faster?

He'd been so _afraid_ when he'd found that small satchel left on its own in Dean's room. Afraid that in the years since he'd seen the boy, Dean had let John's blind obsession transform him into someone unrecognizable.

A hunter that killed anything supernatural, dangerous or not.

Thankfully, Sam had simply forgotten to grab the bag in his hurry to dive for cover from an unknown human breaking in. Dean's decency remained intact. It had certainly given Bobby the shock of a lifetime to see the small guy stand up and introduce himself, taking a leap of faith that he wouldn't be hurt or grabbed by this unknown human.

It had paid off in the end for all of them.

Now, Bobby walked along behind Dean, watching the tall hunter interact with his downsized brother.

It always gave Bobby hope to see how normal the pair treated their interactions. Sam clearly didn't have a problem telling off his older brother, and Dean was certainly inventive in his retaliations, never once putting Sam at risk. Even as Bobby watched, Dean shrugged his shoulder just enough to toss a bitching Sam against his neck (one of his favorite comebacks), to give himself a breather before the griping started up again.

When they got back to the house, a small dinner was made and devoured without wasting any time. Bobby was left on his own as the pair decided it was high time for a movie night, now that all the repairs were finished. He even overheard Sam telling Dean about this great idea he'd gotten from a movie one of the other nights, wanting them to both learn Morse Code so they could still talk if Sam was hidden in a pocket on a case. The ingenuity of that boy never ceased to amaze Bobby. His lack of size was merely a challenge, not a disadvantage.

The last time he saw them that night before he turned in, they were on the couch. A Chuck Norris movie was on. Dean was sprawled out with a beer in hand, taking over as much of the couch as he could. Rumsfeld had curled up next to him, preventing his complete couch potato conquest, and Sam...

At first Bobby couldn't spot his smallest house guest. Then, movement right next to the hand Dean had draped over Rumsfeld's head caught his eye.

Sam was using the side of Rumsfeld's head as a backrest, with his legs kicked out onto Dean's thigh, putting him squarely between the two Godzilla-sized giants. He didn't seem concerned in the slightest about being surrounded like that, simply munching away on his snack and sipping the beer Dean had poured him. He'd taken advantage of Bobby's house there, making himself a tinfoil cup so he could drink out of a properly sized cup while they were visiting. Dean and Bobby had pretended not to notice when Sam packed extra tinfoil in his satchel to save for later.

Rumsfeld never even sniffed at the oversized kernel of popcorn in Sam's hands. When Dean's hand moved in a slow scratch of Rumsfeld's ear, Sam didn't budge, staying completely intent on the television.

Bobby left them to it.

* * *

Sam woke with a gasp in the middle of the night, rubbing his arms to get rid of the goosebumps. He shivered in the warm night air, chilled despite himself. He tried to shake the images from his nightmare out of his mind.

Flashes hit him. Being grabbed, pushed casually around... a massive hand coming at him, but instead of being grabbed, his satchel was pinched between two thick, relentless fingers. Sam had ended up dangling from it in midair, desperately clawing to get it back, completely panicked that the well-loved bag would shred from his weight. He'd been helplessly shaken off, falling until he hit a fleshy surface suspended in midair.

The last part he remembered that sent a shiver of shock up his back had been the icy, heartless green eyes examining his possessions while Sam was trapped in the clutches of the other hand, acting like he was as inconsequential as a toy.

Dean.

In the darkness, Sam tried to relax. No. Dean would never do that to him. Not in a million years. Dean was the one person he could rely on in any situation, and that would never change. He needed to get past these fears that were holding him back.

Mind made up, Sam pulled himself out of bed, padding quietly out of his small room. He only paused to scoop up the finished bracelet, tossing it over his shoulder.

The air was cooler outside his cubby. He took in a deep breath, enjoying the refreshing feel. In the darkness, the familiar furniture had become dark monuments that towered over him. His pulse pounded in his head, reminding him of the terrifying flashes that had forced him away from sleep.

Determined, he started his hike towards the only bed in the room. He could hear calm breathing in the distance, a sign that pointed towards the resident hunter's peaceful rest. He didn't waste any time pulling himself up the bed.

Dean was motionless when Sam reached the top, his eyes closed and the expression on his face so peaceful that it surprised Sam. It always seemed like his brother was taking on the weight of the world when he was awake. It was good to see him calm, even if it was just in sleep. One day, Sam hoped to be able to help Dean share that burden.

Until then, all he could do was be there for him. Pushing away the nightmare that had snapped him out of sleep, Sam climbed up Dean's shoulder. The flannel pocket was inviting, promising warmth and safety for the smaller hunter.

He slipped in, leaving one arm out of the pocket, clutching the bracelet he'd made with painstaking care. His eyes closed almost before he was settled, tension and fear vanishing with the steady rise and fall of the chest under him.

For the first time since being taken, Sam let his guard down completely around Dean and fell into a peaceful rest.

* * *

"Sam?"

A voice pulled at him, dragging him away from the deep, peaceful rest he'd fallen into. Sam groaned, stretching his arms out.

He blinked sleepily at the world around him, realizing there was a hand close by. A hand that had a familiar bracelet pinched between two fingers.

"Dean?" he replied in confusion, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't remember how he'd ended up in the pocket. Or how Dean had gotten hold of the bracelet he'd been working on. "What… is it morning?" He couldn't make his brain get itself completely in gear to piece things together.

"What is this?" came the response. "Did you… did you _make_ this for me?" There was a surprising amount of awe in Dean's voice.

Sam tried to get himself out of the pocket and regain his bearings. Another hand slipped in, lightly pinching his waist and pulling him out. Sam wobbled in place when he was finally out and standing on a solid (semi-solid) surface.

"I, ah…" he worked to remember what was going on. "Your bracelet. They burned it off…" Suddenly, he wondered if Dean would even want it. What if Dean didn't like the new bracelet? It wasn't black like his old one, after all…

He didn't look at Dean as the other hunter started to pull himself up from the bed. Sam found himself falling into a hand, caught long before the surface he was on turned vertical. "How did you make it?" Dean's voice came again. "This is… perfect!"

Sam glanced up and couldn't stop widening his eyes when he saw that Dean had already put on the bracelet. The size fit the hunter's wrist perfectly, filling in the space that had been abandoned by the loss of the previous bracelet. "Really?" he asked. "I wasn't sure if you'd like it… I've been gathering scraps all week and fitting them into it. I wanted to make it right for you after everything else you've gone through… it just wasn't right without your bracelet."

Dean let out a laugh. His eyes were bright as he turned his wrist over to take in the workmanship on the bracelet. "You read my mind, pipsqueak. It hasn't been the same since that bitch tried to charcoal me along with the bracelet." He tapped Sam's shoulder with a finger. "Thanks, kid." Then he grinned broadly. "Now, I've got a little something of my own to show you. Go get yourself together for the day. I've been waiting all week for this."

Still vaguely confused, Sam got dressed and gathered his stuff, tossing on his satchel before stepping out of the small alcove under the bookshelf. He grinned at the desk that sat behind the row of books outside his small entrance. A few sheets of paper were scattered over the top. He'd wasted no time jumping in and starting on the new material Dean had stocked him with. With all of this, he didn't need to be as economical when he took notes, trying to save space because he didn't know when he'd be able to get more supplies. Instead, he had a huge supply, just ready and waiting for him.

With Sam on his shoulder, Dean made his way downstairs, passing by Bobby, who was once again buried in a book doing research for another hunter. He gave them a brief nod before returning to his work.

The Impala was waiting for them outside, gleaming black. Her paint job was fixed, with not a single scorch mark left on the outside. Sam eyed up the car, impressed. She might as well be brand new at a dealership with all the care and attention Dean had put into her repairs.

Dean strolled casually up, opening the driver's side door with a familiar creak. "What do you think? Good as new!" he proclaimed with a smile.

Sam smiled back, but asked with a little bit of suspicion, "So is that what you wanted to show me?"

Dean winked, then held out a hand. "There's a little surprise for you waiting under the seat. Want to check it out?"

More suspicious than ever, Sam stepped on. Dean lowered him down, then flattened himself down on the floor of the car so he could see.

Sam blinked in surprise, and took a few steps forward. There was a metal box sequestered directly under Dean's seat. The bottom was welded to the floor of the Impala. Thin slits ran up every side, offering a glimpse into the darkness inside. "What…"

Dean nudged him with a knuckle, pushing Sam a few inches forward. "Trust me. You're gonna love this."

Sam sent him a bitchface for the push on principal, then went up to it. He couldn't reign in the curiosity. He brushed a hand over one of the edges, observing the thick metal welds that held the four walls together. He knocked against it, noting how thick the metal was.

There was a door on the side that faced directly under the seat, so it was hard to spot. With a grunt, he shoved at the slot on the side, pushing it all the way open. Inside, the slits of light that made it that far into the Impala lit up a strangely cozy scene. There was a devil's trap painted on the floor, along with several other warding symbols. When he was all the way in, he saw a metal bar he could push against the door, and a small lock that he recognized as being used in airports for luggage, along with two keys for it. He could snap the lock over the bar. It would seal him in completely.

Sam poked his head out of the small room. "Dean, is this…"

"A panic room, just for you!" Dean said with a grin, barely containing his excitement and pride. "I've been working on it most of the week. Ilyana's attack was only surface level damage. This is what's held us up so long." He tried to squeeze in closer, and managed to get an arm under the seat. His hand pointed out the slits. "These will give you air. There's a lock so you can seal it off, and demon warding to keep anyone out. Once you lock that door, there's no way in for me or anyone else around." Dean frowned a bit. "I got the idea on that case with the scarecrow. With something like this, we don't need to worry about you being in danger if there's vics that I need to drive around, or if we get attacked. You have a safe house."

His finger poked into the small panic room. "There's also a trap door inside. I made you a safe way in and out of the car. See if it works. I couldn't really try it out myself."

With that, his hand withdrew from under the seat. Sam didn't take any notice as Dean peeled himself off of the ground, stretching up out of sight. He was far too curious about what Dean had just told him.

He took another look around the inside of the room as the car shook from Dean exiting it. There was a handkerchief in one corner, along with a miniature bottle of water (half his height, but he'd be able to open it) and a bag of trail mix. Supplies, in case he needed to keep out of sight for some time. A way to weather out an attack.

Sam pushed the handkerchief out of the way, and blinked. Sure enough, there was a sliding trap door. He gripped a slot in the side, shoving it open. The darkness below was only broken by a few bits of light that snuck in past the welds and metal that Dean had used to make it with.

Sam dropped down, hitting the ground with a metallic clang. Glancing up from his crouch, the metallic tunnel under the car stretched away from him. In the distance, he could see light coming from an entrance. Hitching his bag up on his shoulder, Sam started his trek, examining the careful workmanship that had gone into the new addition to the bottom of the Impala.

When he reached the opening, he peered down. A few feet stretched out before him. He knelt down, carefully touching at a notch in the floor.

"Like it?" came a voice from below. Sam glanced over the edge. Dean was peering up at him, stretched out under the Impala again on his creeper once more. "That notch is for your hook. If you want to get in when I'm not around, all you gotta do is climb in from here."

"Dean, this is… holy _crap,_ " Sam said, still in shock. He actually had a way in and out of the Impala on his own now. "You made this for me?"

"Course!" Dean almost came across as surprised. "Sam, whether we find a cure for your curse or not, or you end up wanting to stay that size, you shouldn't have to need me for every little thing in life. This car is as much your home as it is mine. And now you know that for sure."

He held a hand up to the edge, and Sam took a few steps over the outstretched fingers. He sat down and crossed his legs to keep steady while Dean rolled the creeper out from under the gleaming black classic car.

Dean kicked open his cooler, snagging a beer for them to share. Sam sat on the hood of the Impala again, drinking from a bottlecap bigger than his head. He grinned up at his big brother. "So, we heading out again?"

Dean smirked. "You bet. Bobby caught wind of a case for us up in northwestern Illinois. There's some kind of problem with the wolves up there, according to the local paper. I'm thinking a werewolf on the prowl, upsetting the local campers and hikers. The lunar cycle's right." He held up his beer to clink it against Sam's bottlecap for a small toast. They both drank.

"You up for a trip to the woods?"

Sam grinned and took another long sip. "Ready and waiting. Can't wait to head out."

 **FIN**

* * *

 **A/N**

Sam has finished his secret project, Dean's revealed what he's really been working on for so long and there's a new case on the horizon! Life is back to normal at last!

 _A Lich of Sense_ arrives December 11th! Stay tuned for the sneak peek that goes up on Sunday on the tumblr!


End file.
